


Take a Look to the Sky

by Chicktar



Series: Take a Look to the Sky 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Cas, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BDSM, Criminal Investigation, Dean Whump, Detective Benny, Heat Sex, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Knotting, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nipple Clamps, Omega Dean, Oral Sex, Pain Kink, Painplay, Physical Abuse, Praise Kink, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Sadism, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Torture, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 64
Words: 185,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicktar/pseuds/Chicktar
Summary: A/B/O AU with Castiel and Dean as neighbors.  Alpha Castiel has been pining for his neighbor Omega Dean.  Castiel discovers Dean after he has suffered a shockingly horrific attack and all of Castiel's protective instincts kick in. With Dean carrying his own load of insecurities along with suffering flashbacks to the attack, how will Castiel convince Dean to let him in to help Dean heal and protect him from the potential of further violence from his attacker?  Meanwhile, police detective Benny Lafitte struggles with trying to solve the case.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Dean’s attack is described in detail in various flashback and dream chapters and referenced throughout this fic. If this may be a trigger for you please do not read or proceed with the utmost caution.
> 
> Also, as a side note, I am seeking a beta. The main fic I am currently focused on is called I Know Why You’re Lonely and the details are in chapter 4 of that fic if anyone might be interested. Thanks!

_What the fuck!? It’s almost 4 in the morning!_

Castiel’s thoughts on being woken up by blaring classic rock from his neighbor’s house were decidedly uncharitable.  He’d been attracted to the hunky green-eyed mechanic ever since he’d moved in next door to Dean.  He was the most beautiful man Castiel had ever seen.  And even though they were only neighbors and not good friends, he had seen enough of Dean’s interactions with others to know that he was as beautiful inside as out.  Castiel had the impression Dean was attracted to both men and women, but even if so he knew Dean was about 3 levels above his league and he would have had no chance with someone so amazing.  So he took what pleasure he could in living next door to Dean and getting to see his strong chest bared from time to time when he mowed his lawn or worked on a car, and called that a win.  But even Castiel’s adoration faded to a quiet murmur now under the pressure of the headache being pounded into his brain by Lars Ulrich’s drums.  After waiting several minutes with no change to the music’s volume, he finally dragged himself out of bed and padded over to the dresser to pull a t-shirt on over his lounging pants.

As he approached Dean’s door, he rehearsed what he was going to say.  _Listen, man, I try to be reasonable during the day, but I really do need to get at least a couple hours of sleep…_   Stepping onto the porch, the Metallica was a driving cacophony that drowned out even his own train of thought.  He knocked on the door, then banged on it with his fist, not particularly surprised when no one answered.  _There’s no way he’s going to hear me knock.  For shit’s sake – am I going to have to call the police?_

Castiel stood in front of Dean’s door for a minute, rubbing his temples and contemplating what to do.  He leaned over to his left and tried to peer in the window to Dean’s living room, but he couldn’t see anything through the blinds.  He pounded on the door again, paced about, and tried the doorknob.  To his surprise, the doorknob turned easily under his hand and he yelled Dean’s name through the crack.  Of course, with “For Whom the Bell Tolls” blaring through Dean’s impressive speakers, Castiel couldn’t even hear himself yelling, much less expect anyone else to.  He pushed the door open a little further and looked in.  He didn’t see anyone but he could see the offending stereo along one of the near walls of Dean’s living room.  He tried calling once more and realized his best course of action was probably to go ahead and step over to the stereo, turn it down himself, and then announce his presence to Dean, hopefully before he was too startled by the sign that someone else was present in his house.  As an omega, Dean might be extremely sensitive to the violation of an uninvited entry in his territory.

Just as he pushed the door open, though, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision drew his attention down the long hall to his right that led to the kitchen.  It was dark in the house, but he could see something large moving on the kitchen floor.  It was then that the odor filling the house hit him with full force for the first time:  iron (blood!), vinegar (frightened omega!), salt (tears!), and spent gunpowder (violence!).  He flung the door out of his way and raced down the hall to find Dean naked, laying in a pool of blood and other mess and fluids on the floor.

“Oh my God, Dean!  What happened?  Are you okay?  No, of course you’re not okay, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that, I mean, I’m here, I’ll help you, we’ll be okay, I mean you’ll be okay, we’re going to fix…   Shit.”  He had dropped to the floor next to Dean as he was talking, but was afraid to touch the obviously suffering and frightened omega.  Realizing he was not in control and was not helping Dean, Castiel took a deep breath to pull himself together and think.

Dean had stopped struggling to rise (at least that’s what Castiel thought Dean had been doing when he rushed in), but was now slowly wriggling away from the center of the room (from Castiel!), apparently seeking to get his back into the relative protection of the corner.  Castiel reached out to very gently touch Dean’s shoulder with his fingertips.  At the same time, he tried to calmly croon to Dean (though it was difficult to find the right tone and volume to use that would communicate safety and calm and still be heard over the pounding heavy metal).

“Dean, it’s me, it’s Castiel.  I’m not going to hurt you.  I promise.  You’re safe now.  I’m with you and I’m not going to leave.  I’m going to get you some help.  But first I have to turn this music off so they can hear me when I call.  I’m just going to the living room and I will be right back.  I promise you, I am not leaving and you’re safe now.  Just stay here and I’ll be right back.”  Castiel’s efforts were rewarded when Dean finally stopped his weak efforts to shuffle away, so Castiel gently stroked Dean’s shoulder for just a few more seconds and then cautiously stood and took the first few steps back the hall to the living room.  He rushed to the stereo then and turned it off.  The sudden silence hit him with the power of a thunderclap and Castiel actually staggered for a moment and again had to take a few breaths.  In the quiet, the scents of the house seemed even stronger, but now had a stale, sickening aspect.  He was surrounded by the residue of some horrific event.  All he could smell was pain, suffering, torture, and fear combined with the gasoline odor of sadistic pleasure.  Someone had hurt Dean in his own house and enjoyed it.  _Dean!_

Castiel rushed back to the kitchen, only slowing down two steps before Dean so as not to seem so threatening.  Oh God, he looked terrible.  He was covered in some sticky wet combination of blood and maybe urine or ejaculate or something else.  There were visible cuts and bruises of all shades, shapes and sizes scattered over his body.  His face looked like a boxer after a title match with one eye swollen shut and puffy, cut lips and nose.  Castiel reached for his pocket to get his phone and realized he had left it at home.  He glanced frantically around the room, but saw nothing useful.  He didn’t want to leave Dean alone, but as his eyes cast about the kitchen, he couldn’t come up with any other solution.  Other than their two, there were no other houses for a mile down the road, so flickering lights or calling for help would do no good.  He needed a phone.

He again knelt down next to Dean and cautiously reached out to him.  This time he reached for Dean’s hands, which he was curling up in front of his chest as he shivered.  _He’s shivering!_

“Dean, can you hear me?  It’s Castiel.  Can you tell me if you understand me?”

Nothing.

“Dean, are you okay?”  _Shit!  I know he’s not okay, what a stupid question!_   “Dean, I’m sorry, I mean, can you hear me?”

Nothing. 

_Shit.  What do I do?_

“Dean, it’s Castiel.  I’m here with you and you’re safe now.  Can you nod for me if you understand?”

Castiel almost crowed from the excitement when he thought he detected a small nod from Dean. 

“Dean, that’s so good.  You’re doing so good.  Thank you.  I promise I’m going to take care of you.  I have to get up again to get some things, but I will be right back again just like I was before.  I promise.  Okay?”

Nothing.

“Dean, it’s okay.  You don’t have to say anything, but just know that I promise you I will be right back.  I just have to get a phone to call for help.”

Nothing.

Castiel was torn, but feeling bereft of choices, he stood up slowly and carefully and stepped away from Dean then flew from the house back to his own.  He crashed through the door and up to his bedroom to snatch his phone from the nightstand and as he passed by the bed, he grabbed his comforter.  He raced back to Dean’s house and slowed down only as he was in the hallway so as to hopefully keep from frightening the hurting omega any further.  He gently covered Dean with his comforter and then dialed 9-1-1 as he knelt back down next to the injured man.  He tugged the blanket up to cover Dean and then gently reached out to caress and pet his short spikey hair (now crusted with Castiel-didn’t-know-what!) as the call started to ring through.

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel waits at the hospital for news of Dean's condition.

Although he knew he was making everyone in the hospital waiting room nervous, Castiel had not been able to force himself to stillness.  He had tried every calming mantra he could come up with, counting slow and deep breaths and even digging his fingernails into his thighs as hard as he could.  It was all no use.  The next second he always found himself pacing – perhaps prowling was a better word – the waiting room in endless circles.

His thoughts were stuck in a similar endless loop _.  How will Dean recover from this?  What if he has permanent injuries?  How can I ever help him feel safe?  Who the FUCK would hurt someone like Dean?  And HOW could they have ENJOYED it?_   Flashes of the scents filling Dean’s house would hit Castiel as his mind went down this path and he knew that he must have occasionally growled aloud with the frustration, disgust and impotence of it all.  Twice he ran to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet helplessly gagging on his own vomit.  Not that it changed anything.  After a few minutes, he would simply pick himself back up, rinse out his mouth at the sink, wash his hands and head back to the -- _torture room, not waiting room_ \-- his bitter mind asserted as he walked past the sign.

Castiel looked at his watch.  Two hours and thirty-four minutes.  Why did everything at a hospital always take so long?  After nagging the emergency admitting nurses, he had finally been told that the emergency room had cleared Dean and he was being admitted to a ward.  Castiel would be allowed to go see him after he was settled in a room.  Though it had not been said aloud, something about this whole process gave off the impression that the emergency room had taken that first two hours simply to determine that Dean had actually suffered serious injuries.  Castiel wanted to scream.  _Oh CONGRATULATIONS, you genius fucking doctors, for figuring that out.  At this rate you’ll have actually given the poor tortured omega a pain killer by next week.  For fuck’s sake!_

He sat down in a chair across from a bored mother wrangling a tired-looking toddler into her lap.  He tried to find something useful to focus his thoughts on.  He wondered what he should do about contacting Dean’s family.  He had never met any family members, but he had seen plenty of guests come and go from Dean’s house over the years, most of whom he had not had reason to be introduced to.  Any of them could have been family members.  The only family member he remembered Dean talking about was a younger brother, Sam.  But Castiel was under the impression he lived far away, perhaps even out of the country.  He didn’t know what the police or hospital might do to reach out to next of kin in a situation like this, and didn’t know if he should try to take steps to contact Dean’s family on his own or not.  He imagined getting a call from a stranger telling him his own brother had suffered an attack like what Dean just endured.  His stomach immediately felt queasy again and he realized he was rocking back and forth in his chair, hugging himself tightly.

 _Stop, Castiel!  You have to stop this!  You are a rock.  You are GOING TO BE a rock.  For Dean._  He stopped moving and made an effort to stretch his arms out, lean back and take a slow, deep breath.  He looked at his watch.  Two hours and fifty-three minutes.  _Christ!_   He wondered whether Dean was awake.  Whether he had been given something for the pain yet.  Whether he knew where he was.  Whether he was scared.  Cas's stomach flipped in discomfort.  He stood up and began his regular route along the small circular path between the chairs.  The waiting room had gotten busier and he now had to move more slowly to step around the legs of other vigilants and the occasional child exploring the wonderful new world of the waiting room’s carpet.  At least the attention this required helped slow down the brutal whirlwind of thoughts in his head. 

 _How long will Dean have to stay in the hospital?  How can he ever go back to that house?  Can I clean it up for him before he returns?  Perhaps I can remove everything that will remind him?  Linens and rugs will be easy.  No problem.  But perhaps I should even get rid of the furniture?  And what about the carpet?  And tile?  What sort of new tile would Dean like?  Surely he would rather choose for himself, but – STOP STOP STOP, CASTIEL!_   He stopped walking and made an effort again to stretch.  He rolled his shoulders slowly and tilted his head first to the right and then to the left.  He had to stop rushing ahead and taking over.  Dean wasn’t his mate.  Wasn’t his boyfriend.  Wasn’t even a proper friend.  He had no right.  He breathed deeply again and started slowly and carefully around the room again.  _You can do this, Castiel.  You can be there for Dean.  As little or as much as he wants.  And no more.  Just think about Dean._

Castiel returned to his cycle of willfully forcing himself not to badger the admissions staff for information, pacing the waiting room, and intermittently trying to sit still.  Eventually, he walked down the hall to the vending machines and bought a Pepsi, drinking it in just three long pulls, and tossing the empty can in the waiting trash can.  For a moment, he thought his roiling empty stomach would rebel, but after a few minutes the queasiness subsided back to a low simmer.  He headed back to the waiting room, walking past a man checking in at the admissions desk with an obviously broken nose.  _How many broken bones does Dean have?  Who had beaten him?  How long had they been there?  Why didn’t I hear anything?  There must have been some noises?  Why didn’t I hear?  How long was Dean being tortured by some sadist while I was sleeping?  Getting ready for bed?  Making dinner and watching that documentary about the Thirteenth Amendment?  If I had just looked out my window would I have seen something through Dean’s curtains?  How could I have missed it?  What have I done?  How will Dean ever forgive me?_

 _STOP IT!_ another part of his mind yelled at him.  _This isn’t about you and this won’t help Dean._   Castiel looked at his watch.  Three hours and twenty-one minutes.  He was standing in front of the emergency room doors and could see a small group of smokers milling about to one side of the entrance.  _God, I wish I smoked._   He turned to his right and headed back to the waiting room.  Just then he heard a woman calling his name and turned to see a business-like nurse approaching with a clipboard.

“Mr. Novak?”

Castiel nodded.

“You were waiting for news regarding Dean Winchester, correct?”

Castiel nodded.  He realized he was holding his breath and carefully exhaled.

“Mr. Winchester has been checked in and settled, so you may go see him now if you wish.  He is in Room 334.”

“Thank you.”  As the nurse continued to look directly at him with no reaction, Castiel realized he had whispered his response and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Thank you.”

The nurse nodded and as Castiel stood before her without moving her lips curved up a bit on one side, she tucked the clipboard under her arm, reached out to gently take Castiel’s elbow in one hand and turn him slightly toward the elevators and gestured with the other hand saying, “Take the elevator up to the third floor and turn left when you get off.”

Castiel nodded and began walking in something of a daze toward the elevators.  By the time he reached the third floor and was walking down the hall peering at the room numbers, he felt a little more himself.  At Room 334 he turned to enter and was pleased to see it was a private room just for Dean.  _Of course an omega would be given a single room as omegas were so rare and wouldn’t be safe in a room with any other gender._   As Castiel stepped up to Dean’s bed he was overwhelmed by his warring emotional reactions to the sight and scent of Dean.  He was calmed and comforted by seeing the omega safely covered in hospital blues and cool white sheets and blankets.  He had been carefully cleaned and his skin and hair were now free of grime and detritus.  Several of his cuts had been neatly stitched and others were bracketed by tiny bandages.  Dean was sleeping and an IV protruded from his arm almost certainly providing him with rehydrating fluids and pain medication.  His scent was no longer the vinegar odor of fear, but now just smelled like Dean – cinnamon, jasmine and a touch of something that reminded Castiel of an auto shop, maybe engine grease.

At the same time, Castiel’s lurking nausea rose up again with a vengeance at the sight of the pale, scarred and bruised figure.  Dean’s normally healthy, tan skin, was a pale, clammy-looking white marred by scattered angry red cuts and bruises of all shades and colors.  His right arm was laying across his stomach with a cast covering the wrist and upper half of his hand.  He was sleeping peacefully but looked so small, and vulnerable.  He looked as if he could sink into the bed and disappear if Castiel turned away for even a second.

Castiel did not realized he was backing away from the bed until his back hit the wall with a rough thump.  He couldn’t quit staring at Dean’s traumatized face.  It was so damaged and abused and still so beautiful.  He longed to see Dean open his eyes and let his shining green gaze fall on Castiel.  Castiel’s hands rose to the sides of his own head as he grabbed at his hair and slid slowly down the wall to the floor.  He was falling down an abyss that was made of Dean – Dean’s deep, sparkling laugh; his pointed, thoughtful green eyes; his warm, comforting scent of spice and gardens and masculinity.  He was falling and falling and falling with no end into an oubliette lined with jasmine flowers and lit by moonlight.  Images of Dean swirled all about him--confused, jumbled, contradictory.  Dean was right in front of him.  Dean was safe.  Dean was hurt and wasn’t safe at all.  Dean was scarred and damaged.  Dean was the most breathtaking, awe-inspiring, wondrous thing that Castiel had ever known.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hospital Dean dreams of his attack and wakes up. WARNING FOR: violence, torture.

_Where the hell is he???  Is it over?  Did he just leave me here?_

Dean couldn’t hear anything except the wet sound of his own strangled breaths through his nose which was filled with snot and muck from so many hours of crying and abuse.  He held his breath for a moment and listened, but the only additional sound he could hear then was the loud ticking of his old fashioned alarm clock.   _So, his bedroom then._ He gave up and exhaled, trying to clear a path in his nose for better breaths.  He tentatively pulled at the ropes wrapped around his arms one at a time, but there was no give at all.  He couldn’t even lift his shoulder up more than an inch or so.  He tried his legs with the same result. 

With his eyes bound, he had been relying on sound and touch, but now he was realizing that he couldn’t feel anything anymore.  It was as if his entire body had gone numb.  He didn’t know if he was hot or cold, only assumed he was naked because he had been when he'd been strapped down.  He tried concentrating on different parts of his body, but there was nothing.  Just nothing.  Maybe he was dying – this might be what it was like when a terminal patient finally drifts off.  As he imagined that, Dean’s heart grew lighter.  He didn’t mind.  _Oh, but what about Sammy?  Who will watch out for him if I’m gone?  Well, not that I ever did a very good job of watching out for him.  And after all, he left – he wanted to be far away from me.  So he’ll be fine – better off, really._

Bang!  The door from the garage slammed shut and with it Dean’s heart took off racing. 

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.  He’s back.  Oh god, what now?!_

Dean listened to The Man’s footsteps moving across the kitchen, pausing for a moment, then continuing down the hallway to the foot of the stairs. 

_It doesn’t matter.  He can do whatever he wants, I’ll be gone soon and this will all be over.  I wish I could see Sammy again, though, and tell him how proud I am of him.  And ask him to take care of Baby for me._

The Man started up the stairs.  No scent came with him at all and Dean knew it wasn’t just because his nose was in such bad shape.  It was as if the man had no gender at all.  Definitely not alpha or omega.  He had to be a beta, but he seemed even more odorless than the average beta.  Like an animated mannequin.  Jude Law’s character in A.I. flashed through Dean’s mind and he was momentarily on the verge of chuckling, but the character transformed into The Man and Dean thought he could finally see why people were so worried about robots obtaining self awareness.

His footsteps were close now.

_Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.  Just breathe.  I’ll be gone soon.  I can’t feel anything anymore anyway, so there’s nothing more he can do.  Maybe if I relax I’ll just drift off and be gone._

The Man’s footsteps moved slowly into the room and around the right side of Dean’s bed.  He was there but he wasn’t saying anything.  He was breathing, but quietly as if there was nothing of interest in the room.  Dean waited.  And waited.  There was nothing but The Man’s quiet breathing and his own wet sloppy snorted breaths. 

Then whatever had been blindfolding him was ripped off the top of his head and Dean was blinking in the light.  The Man was standing over him smirking. 

“Hello, Dean.”  The Man’s voice was always so soft, sort of a half-whisper and touched with just a hint of a lisp.  “Have you missed me?”  He straightened up, took his right hand to his left wrist and unbuttoned the cuff, then started to slowly roll it up.  When it was up to his elbow, he started on the other sleeve.

“I think, my sweet, that it is time to try something different.  As much as I would like to spend weeks here enjoying the _pleasure_ of your company, our time will at some point end.”  He was unbuttoning the front of his shirt now and as he spoke he pulled it off his shoulders and tossed it on the floor.  “I need to make sure you will always remember our time together.  So, I’ve come up with some mementos for you.”  He unbuttoned his pants and began to slide them and his boxers down his legs.  “I think they’ll really make a mark on you that will keep us connected for a very long time.  Not to mention how much fun I’ll have sharing them with you.”  He stopped moving and bent down over Dean and then his mouth turned up and opened in a wide toothy grin.  “I am going to enjoy this _so_ much, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t able to turn his head away, but he closed his eyes and tried not to feel The Man’s breath on his face.  _He snorted slightly to himself in a sick parody of amusement.  Ha!  He thinks he can hurt me.  It’s over already and he has no idea.  He can stick his sick fucking dick wherever he wants, it doesn’t matter anymore._  

But as he heard The Man turn away and rattle some things around on the top of his dresser, Dean couldn’t help but open his eyes and look.  When he turned back around to Dean, the Man was holding a scalpel.  Then he was slicing Dean’s chest and stomach open and Dean had been so so wrong – there could still be pain, and there was.  So MUCH pain.  He screamed and he dragged at his restraints and he wept and screamed some more, though it was all muffled by the giant rod filling his mouth and the ropes tightly gripping his arms and legs.  Each touch of the knife at first was nothing, but then after a few heartbeats a slight burning would begin where the knife had passed and then the burning would transition to stinging and eventually every spot the knife had been was a raging fire of agony.

_Stop, stop, oh my God, stop!  I can’t take anymore.  I’ll do anything, just kill me and make it stop.  Just God, please, no more.  Please...stop….no, not...please..._

Dean was losing it, the burning feeling on his skin was fading into the smell of fire, but not a burning, acrid smell, something else – the warm, cozy smell of smoke from a lively, crackling wood fire, like a fireplace or a bonfire.  It smelled…good.  Really good.

And something else – something like an outdoor carnival – candy!  Peppermint and licorice!

And…  the best part of winter…  Christmas trees, pine and fir and balsam.

He inhaled deeply, and the pain receded.  Dean was reminded of his neighbor, Castiel, with the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen and the strange focused stare that always made Dean feel _significant_ in some way.  His body didn’t even hurt anymore and he inhaled again, trying to get as much of that fireplace-licorice-pine scent as he could.

*             *             *

Castiel was awoken by Dean rustling around in his bed and murmuring to himself, apparently in the throes of a nightmare.  Castiel threw himself out of the chair at the end of Dean’s bed and rushed over to Dean’s side, reaching for Dean’s hand to grasp it gently in one hand and caress his hairline gently with the other.  It sounded like Dean was mumbling “Stop” and “Please” in a senseless stream of consciousness manner, and Castiel’s heart leapt out of his chest in empathy.  “Oh God, Dean,” he thought. 

He leaned toward Dean’s ears and whispered softly, “Dean, it’s okay, you’re safe now.  It’s Castiel, I’m … I mean, you know, your neighbor, Castiel, …  I’m … well, I’m here with you and you’re safe in the hospital and you’re going to be fine.  You’re safe, Dean.  It’s okay.”  His heart was pounding so hard it was a rush of blood and noise in his ears and his peripheral vision became hazy and tunneled until he couldn’t see anything except Dean’s furrowed brows and anguished face.  “Shhhh, Dean, shhhh.  It’s alright now, we’re here in your room at St. Michael’s and they’re taking such good care of you.  I know you’re going to be up and around in no time and you’re safe here now.”

As Castiel babbled nonsense to Dean, he was rewarded by seeing Dean’s forehead lighten and uncrease, and his mouth stop streaming protests.  Castiel continued to lightly caress Dean’s face and whisper platitudes and meaningless talk until he was startled into silence by Dean’s eyes flickering open just a little and squinting out at him under those beautiful long eyelashes of his.  Castiel’s heart was in his throat and he suddenly panicked inside – unsure whether he should leave Dean alone in order to alert the nurses to Dean’s waking.  It wasn’t much of a struggle, as he never could have let go of Dean’s hand while those gorgeous green eyes were looking at him.

Dean tried to say something and Castiel smiled at him and said, “Hello, Dean.”

“C-Ca—Castiel?”  It was barely a whisper, but Castiel had never heard such a beautiful sound.

“Yes, Dean, I’m here.  Your eyes and voice are very welcome.  I was uncertain how long it would take for you to awaken.”

“Cas, I…”  Dean seemed to be having a hard time speaking and Castiel’s heart started to accelerate a bit in concern.  He inhaled deeply, but the vinegar scent of Dean’s fear from the nightmare was receding and was now tinged with a bit of pain, but nothing overwhelming.

“What is it, Dean?”

“Water,” Dean huffed out, finally.

“Oh my, of course, Dean.  You must be terribly parched.  I will get you a drink, of course.”  Castiel straightened and walked the few steps over to Dean’s bedside table where a water pitcher and cup waited and he poured a cup and took it back to Dean, holding it up and tipping the straw to Dean’s lips for him to drink.

“Thanks, man.  That’s better.”

Castiel stood there with the water and helped Dean take a couple of more sips until Dean eventually rejected the offer and Cas set the cup back down and stood awkwardly at Dean’s side, uncertain where to put his hands or what to do now.  Dean’s eyes were open wider and he seemed alert and aware, and he was still only giving off a faint odor of pain.  Castiel knew he should say something, but what do you say to someone who’s been viciously attacked and you barely know?

Dean ended Castiel’s hesitation by saying after looking around, “So, a hospital, eh? Which one?”

Castiel cleared his throat.  “Oh, you are at St. Michael’s.  You have been here since early yesterday morning and have been unconscious since you were first brought in.  Um, I should – I will let the medical attendants know that you are awake now.  I’m sure they will want to verify your condition.”  He wavered for several more seconds, but then managed to pull his eyes away from Dean and head to the corridor to flag down a nurse.  _Jesus, Castiel, you sound like an idiot.  You should have said something comforting.  You should have…  Shit._

Castiel was ushered out of Dean’s room for the staff to examine Dean, so for the next fifteen minutes he paced outside Dean’s door and silently berated himself for his utter and complete lack of chill.  Soon, though, he was allowed back in the room and Dean was still awake and looking at him with that warm, calming gaze of his.

Castiel gestured to the guest chair and said quietly, “May I?”  When Dean nodded, Cas pulled the chair over to the side of Dean’s bed and settled in as comfortably as he could.  “How do you feel?” he asked, and then winced internally.  _What the hell, Castiel?  He must be suffering incredible pain and other ill feelings.  You are supposed to distract him from that, not remind him!_

But Dean just said, “Oh you know, about like a punching bag at the gym must feel, but it could always be worse, right?”  He tried to smile, but to Castiel it looked forced and out of place.

They looked at each other in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two and then Dean blurted, “Look, Cas, why are – I mean no offense, man, this goes above and beyond good neighbor status, but why are you here?”

“I’m sorry, Dean, if I’m intruding.  But after the ambulance brought you here, I just couldn’t leave when I had no idea if anyone would be contacting your family or loved ones, and I had to be sure you were – I mean, I felt concern for your condition, and I didn’t know – I couldn’t have slept – I mean, I thought it would be best –"

"Wait, what? You came here with the ambulance?  You mean, you saw the ambulance come to my house?  So did you – do you know – how did the ambulance – do you -- ” Dean’s voice trailed off and without thought Castiel reached out to take Dean’s hand in his own.

"Dean, I called the ambulance.  I found you in your kitchen.  You were beaten and…  Well…”  Castiel licked his lips and swallowed.  “The EMT’s were kind enough to allow me to ride with you in the ambulance.”

As Castiel said he had been the one to find Dean, he saw Dean look sharply away from him and close his eyes and shudder.  He smelled a light scent of rotten cabbage (shame!) from Dean and he felt a soft tug, as if from a string, dragging at a spot deep inside his chest and pulling him toward Dean.  Dean had not pulled his hand from Castiel’s grasp, so he caressed it with his thumb and said slowly and carefully, “Dean, I found you and called the ambulance, but I promise you that you have nothing to be ashamed of.  You were attacked and have no responsibility for the condition you were in.  You are… you’re…”  _Come, on, Castiel, get it together!_   “We have been neighbors for quite some time and you have always been an exemplary neighbor and person in every moment I have seen you.  I respect you very much, and I hope only for your quick and complete recovery.”  _Oh good grief, why do I always have to sound like such a fucking stiff!_

Dean looked back at Castiel with his eyes wide.  In the hospital bed and covered in scars and bruises he looked so vulnerable and open.  But all he said was, “Uh, okay, man, uh…  Thanks, I guess.”


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's first (awake) day at the hospital

The first day of Dean’s hospital stay, after he woke, Dean was taken in and out of his room repeatedly for a multitude of scans and tests.  Castiel waited in his room each time trying to tamp down his own anxiety and, for Dean’s sake, exude some semblance of comforting, confident alpha pheromones.  At first, Dean was clearly surprised to see Cas waiting there each time he returned to his room, but eventually he quit asking whether Castiel didn’t have something better to do and seemed to acquiesce to Cas’s self-appointed primary caregiver status.  Cas was almost certain that Dean was simply too exhausted to push the issue, and as sad as that idea made him feel he was still relieved to be allowed to stay at the omega’s bedside.  About a dozen different times throughout that day, Castiel resolved to keep it together and be calm and soothing for Dean no matter what it took.  But he had no idea what was coming when Dean allowed him to stay in the room for Dr. Mills’ assessment of his condition and prognosis at day’s end.

Dr. Mills explained about Dean’s injuries starting with a list of broken bones including six different bones (how was that possible?!) in his wrist, 5 ribs, a hairline fracture of the clavicle, and suspiciously uniform breaks in every one of Dean’s toes.  Cas had already understood from hearing the nurses and doctors talk with each other and with Dean that Dean had suffered a plethora of cuts, bruises and even burns to the rest of his body which Castiel had not seen, but apparently the greatest of those was a conglomeration of cuts over Dean’s abdomen.  Dr. Mills confirmed those injuries were healing nicely and might leave scars, but as long as they didn't get infected they presented no permanent health risks.  There had been substantial rectal tearing, but that was also expected to heal safely with time.  The injury that most concerned Dr. Mills was the damage to Dean’s kidneys – he had clearly been beaten with blunt instruments or perhaps kicked all about his torso – and she felt kidney failure was his biggest health risk now.  She advised that he was lucky he had not suffered internal bleeding from any of a handful of key internal organs (other than his rectal lining) and that was clearly a testament to how strong an omega he was.  She had actually seemed surprised that an omega had survived such abuse and the way she always approached Dean with a sort of respectful awe made Cas feel less alone in the world – as if he and Dr. Mills inherently understood something no one else saw.

As the doctor spoke, Dean appeared stoic and somewhat uninterested.  He nodded and acknowledged her questions when required, but showed no other reaction.  Cas, on the other hand, had fallen apart inside.  At the description of the broken bones in every one of Dean’s 10 toes, a burning fire swelled up in his shoulders and he barely contained himself from launching at the wall (at _something!_ ) to punch and punch until his fists were too broken and bloody to continue.  Instead, he sat stiff as a board and clenched his fists and kept his facial expression completely passive and neutral.  He knew his scent must be giving him away, but at least he could keep from showing violent tendencies in front of Dean who must be suffering immense trauma reliving his own torture at the hands of some unknown sadist.  When Dr. Mills described Dean’s anal trauma, Castiel’s stomach lurched and flipped and he only kept his cafeteria dinner in from sheer will power.  Cas refused to think about what had been done to Dean, which he basically accomplished by repeating to himself his new mantra— _don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it you can’t help that way think about what he needs now think about how to be soothing think calm calm calm cool cool cool comforting alpha warm strong safe safe safe_. 

Of course, after Dr. Mills was gone, Castiel had made an excuse about wanting some coffee and barely kept himself from tearing out of Dean’s room.  He raced down the hallway to the public restroom, burst into a stall and spewed his guts into the porcelain bowl.  He stayed there on his knees for about 10 minutes trying _not_ to picture in his head the likely events of Dean’s attack.  He failed.  He failed at least 50 times and all the remaining contents of his stomach joined what he had first expelled until all that he could do was retch up the barest amount of bile.  Finally, he stopped and simply slumped to the floor and shook.  After a while, instead of the horrific visions that had been filling his head, he saw a mental glimpse of Dean in his driveway, leaning under the hood of his black muscle car, and lifting up to smile at his neighbor.  He saw Dean’s gorgeous green eyes and perfect dimples.  And he got up from the floor, washed his hands and face, ran his hands through his hair (not that it ever really made a difference), straightened his clothes and headed back to Room 334.    

Surprising Castiel, throughout Dr. Mills’ summary, the only time Dean showed any emotional reaction was when she mentioned the cuts on his abdomen, which she specifically stated may scar but showed no sign of infection and appeared certain to heal well.  Yet as she mentioned them, Dean’s scent became sour, and Cas noticed that Dean tilted his head and face slightly away from the alpha.  As studiously as he tried to maintain a calm façade, Castiel could see that Dean’s jaw was definitely clenching and strong odors of rotten cabbage (shame!), sulfur (disgust!) and spoiled milk (guilt!) inundated the room.  After she moved on, though, Dean’s discomfort seemed to ease somewhat and by the time they were alone again (after yet _another_ nurse’s check of Dean’s IV and vitals), Dean was back to an outward appearance of simple boredom and fatigue. 

That night, when Dean had difficulty falling asleep and seemed frustrated with the television options, Cas had offered to read to him.

“What, like your book?  Aloud?  Like in grade school?”

“Yes, Dean.  Reading aloud.  It _is_ done, you know.  Some people enjoy listening to audio recordings of novels and other books.  You may have heard of it.”

“Well yeah, sure, but…”  Dean trailed off and they sat in silence for some seconds.  Then Dean startled Cas by saying “Well, what book is it?”

“ _Watership Down_.”

“What’s that about?”

“Rabbits.”

“Rabbits?  Like Wild Kingdom or something?”

Cas chuckled.  “Not exactly.  It’s a novel from the rabbits’ point of view.  It’s about the struggle of a small group of rabbits trying to find a safe home.”

Dean blinked at Cas and frowned a bit.  “It sounds…  I mean…  Isn’t that kind of boring?  I mean how hard is it to be a rabbit?”

“Oh no, Dean,” Castiel asserted, “ _Watership Down_ is quite action-packed.  It’s something of a thriller, really.  And you’d be surprised how interesting the lives of rabbits can be.”

Dean shrugged slightly and said, “Okay.  Let’s try it.”

So Cas had started at the beginning for Dean, and they went through 4 chapters before Dean fell asleep.  As Cas put the book aside that night, with Dean resting and the nurses apparently not yet interested in forcing him back to the waiting room, Castiel let himself enjoy watching Dean rest peacefully.  He tugged his chair right up against the bed, and took Dean’s un-casted hand in both of his own.  He gazed at Dean’s face, noticing how the lines and creases had smoothed away and memorizing the placement of his freckles.  He noted where Dean’s swollen eye was diminishing and the edges of cuts were already starting to fade.  He listened to the regular rhythm of Dean’s breath, and practiced breathing along with him in tandem.  At one point he dared to reach up with one hand to Dean’s face to lightly pet his hair and caress the outlines of his hairline, his cheek, his jaw, his chin.  And when the nurses did tell him he needed to leave the room for the evening, he simply rose and headed out, leaving _Watership Down_ on Dean’s bedside table.   


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's second day in hospital. WARNING FOR: Torture, abuse, sexual abuse, sadism.

The next morning, Dean was still sleeping when Castiel, in a fresh pair of jeans and soft Henley he had picked up in the middle of the night when the waiting room had become too stifling, reached his room.  He had also stopped for some things for Dean but had found himself completely stymied by trying to imagine what would help pass the time most easily for Dean.  He brought fresh flowers for Dean’s room (okay, maybe the multiple bouquets now littering Room 334 _had_ been a _little_ much), some puzzle magazines, and a deck of cards.  When picking those few items out took him over an hour, he finally just gave up and headed back to St. Michael’s.

Cas settled into the Armchair of Discomfort (as he was beginning to view it) at Dean’s side, and picked up a book he had acquired on assisting survivors of personal assault.  When he noticed Dean stir a bit and moan in what appeared to be distress or discomfort, Cas set his book aside and took Dean’s hand in one of his own and gently stroked his arm with the other while murmuring his awkward version of sweet nothings.  As before, he didn’t know what to say and wasn’t even fully aware of what he was saying, just focused on Dean’s face and babbled nonsense:  “Dean, I’m here, you’re safe now.  Don’t worry, you’re safe and you’re healing and you’re going to be fine.  It’s Castiel, I’m here with you and I’m going to stay and keep you safe….” and on and on until Dean settled again.

*             *             *

Dean had nothing left in his stomach.  He had already vomited twice, but still he could feel the bile rising in his throat.  He closed his eyes and turned his head, but he wasn’t even surprised when a hard fist slammed into his temple moments later, and The Man’s fist grabbed his hair to yank his head back around to face him.

“Open your eyes, Dean.”

He didn’t.

“Oh, Dean, you are really wasting your energy fighting over such a little thing.  There are much bigger fights to come, you know.”

Dean didn’t move.

The fist released his hair and a heartbeat later smashed into his jaw sending a jolt of pain and white light shooting through his head.  As the flash was subsiding, he felt The Man’s breath at his ear and knew he was now kneeling next to Dean just millimeters away.  Dean’s skin crawled and he longed to back away, but even if he weren’t tied securely to some makeshift wooden bench contraption that itself was clearly not going anywhere, he wouldn’t have wanted to show any fear of this disgusting animal.  Dean had no idea who he was, where he had come from, why he had chosen Dean for his sick abusive fantasies.  And he guessed it didn’t matter.  All that mattered was surviving and getting out of this (and another part of his brain already would not stop enjoying vengeful daydreams).  But for now, Dean just kept his eyes closed and tried to even his breathing, as The Man whispered…

“…won’t help you.  I will have my way with you and I will have it as long as I want and however I want.  And when I’m done with you, you will be forever changed, Dean.  You may not believe that yet.  But you will.”

At this, Dean couldn’t help himself.  He opened his eyes, turned his head to the right to stare The Man in the eye, and he spat in his face, hard and wet.

The Man made a grunting sound, startled back a bit and stood.  Dean smirked to himself, pleased that he had surprised the sicko.  He watched as The Man stepped over to the dresser and wiped his face with a couple of tissues.  Now that Dean was looking, he registered that The Man’s pants were wide open and his half-hard penis was hanging out.  His stomach fell and bile rose again in his throat, as a shiver rushed through his shoulders and arms.  He reached down deep to find that steely place in his gut, and he forced the turmoil in his stomach aside and shoved his fear away.  There was nothing this creep could do to him that mattered.

He watched The Man drop the tissues on his dresser and turn back around to regard Dean.  He obviously was also experienced at keeping his exterior cold and unrevealing.  He gave nothing away.  He looked Dean in the eye for a minute or so, and then one side of his mouth turned up into a small half-smile.  Dean didn’t like the look of it.  The Man stepped out of the room and came back in a minute later carrying one of Dean’s dining chairs.  He set the chair next to Dean, walked back to the dresser to get some rope and returned.  He lifted Dean’s right arm, scooted the chair up against Dean's side and laid Dean’s arm across the chair so that his elbow and most of his arm were supported by the seat of the chair and only his hand and wrist hung off the opposite side.  He quickly and efficiently ( _Where the hell does someone get so good at tying people down?_ ) tied Dean’s arm into immobility, to the extent where Dean was afraid he was going to lose circulation.  And just as Dean was flexing his hand a bit to make sure he could keep his blood flowing, The Man suddenly turned back to Dean, and staring him in the eyes, lifted his left leg high and slammed his foot straight down onto Dean’s hand.

The sound of Dean’s bones breaking was horrifying, and was followed immediately by Dean screaming in shock and agony.  He stared in disbelief at his wrist, hanging loosely over the other side of the chair.  He was just starting to notice the sound of his own screaming as it died down and turned into gasping and intermittent groans.  He could feel that tears had streamed down his face and he thought he could feel blood in his mouth – maybe he had bitten his tongue or cheek?  The sharp pain had already become somewhat less pointed and was turning into a throbbing pulsing kind of pain that matched his heartbeat, but it was a much more piercing and unavoidable pain than he had ever remembered feeling.  He had broken a couple bones in his youth, but somehow this seemed to outstrip those experiences.  He was taking shuddering breaths and trying to get his panting and— _There is no shame in admitting it, Dean!_ —crying under control and that’s when he saw.

The Man was standing over him now, his feet on either side of Dean’s legs, with his now ragingly hard cock in one hand as he watched Dean suffer and stroked himself in obvious pleasure.  He definitely wore a smile now, and was breathing heavily as he jacked away at his dick, which was clearly enjoying the show.  Dean’s stomach immediately rebelled, and the bile he had swallowed and shoved back down repeatedly finally came up of its own accord, and Dean heaved weakly onto his own chest and stomach.  At the sight, The Man groaned loudly and started to come, spurting onto Dean’s face and chest, where his come mixed with Dean’s tears and vomit.  As Dean finished retching, The Man finished coming, and finally sighed with pleasure and stepped back from Dean.  As he surveyed his victim, Dean found he had no interest in whatever sick threats would be spewed out next.  But The Man simply gazed at him with a creepy toothless smile that reminded Dean of the Grinch, and said only, “Beautiful.”

Dean closed his eyes then and focused on deep breathing and counting down from 1000, a soothing technique he had used as a teenager to avoid getting into a fight when he or some unfortunate omega within his hearing was baited by a dickweed alpha.  The throbbing pain in his hand combined with the slow careful counting was actually more comforting than he could have hoped, and he soon realized that without even trying to imagine warmth and safety, he had started to feel somehow cozy, as if he was wrapped in blankets.  And he didn’t smell vomit and blood anymore, but something woodsy, like the smell of woods, but also at the same time the smell of woodsmoke.  He was so warm, he knew he was inside, but he thought it smelled like being in his neighbor, Castiel’s, backyard with a small bonfire crackling away for two with marshmallows just set in to roast.  He licked his lips in anticipation of tasting his marshmallow—it was going to be so good, just right, all browned and crisp on the outside and melting to almost liquid on the inside.  He pictured Castiel tasting his own, leaving a bit of marshmallow stuck on his lip, and leaning in to lick it off and taste the blue-eyed man’s lips….

*             *             *

“Will you read some more of Hazel and Fiver?”

“What?” Castiel asked, not having clearly heard Dean’s request which had been almost whispered into the room after they had been sitting in silence for quite some time.  Dean had already beaten Cas at gin rummy about seventeen times, and when that got old, he had seemed to be tired and said he was going to shut his eyes for a bit.

“You know, the rabbit book?”

Castiel felt a small warmth in his toes and smiled at Dean.  “I would be happy to, Dean.”  Having a purpose, even this small one, was a comfort to Cas.  He read with pleasure, trying to give each character their own voice and convey the different personalities.  When they paused to discuss the differing opinions of some of the rabbits about their circumstances and options, Castiel was fascinated by how much Dean supported and seemed to identify with the character, Hazel.  Dean softly noted how hard Hazel tried to care for his entire displaced warren of rabbits, especially his troubled brother, Fiver.  Cas nodded and made sure not to argue with Dean, but also to point out that as they were an entire group of rabbits, it was important for Hazel to rely on the other rabbits sometimes, too.  Cas thought Dean clearly understood what he was trying to say as Dean just ended the conversation with a soft, “Maybe Hazel would like to be able to count on someone, but doesn’t want to burden anyone.”  And then, after a brief pause, “And he’s probably scared.”

Castiel almost gasped at how close this was to Dean revealing a bit of his own heart, and he was terrified of pushing too hard, so he just took Dean’s hand in one of his and with the other hand, picked the book back up and continued reading.

In the afternoon, the nurses entered and asked Castiel to step out so they could assist Dean to bathe, and clean and re-bandage his wounds.  He wandered down to the ground level and out into the small gardenlike courtyard situated between the building’s wings.  The few flowers here were beautiful and a smattering of bees and butterflies flitted about investigating them.  Cas stared at them, but his thoughts remained entirely full of Dean.  Dean, who showed almost no sign when awake of the horrors he had suffered less than 2 days earlier.  Who had only quiet, thoughtful looks for Cas and kind smiles for every nurse.  _But his smiles aren’t quite the same as usual are, they?_ Castiel asked himself.  His typical hallmark flirting was missing.  Although Dean was in a hospital bed, Castiel would expect a normal Dean to be working the room skillfully without moving at all, just aiming a little wink or smirk at each person Dean deemed worthy.  It was just a little something that made every person Dean talked to from the mail carrier to his next door neighbor feel like their day was a little brighter, a little more _worthwhile_ , and they must be _special_.  And that smirking, winking side of Dean did seem missing now. 

It worried Cas a bit.  So did the fact that, as far as Cas knew, Dean hadn’t called anyone at all to tell them what happened to him or let them know where he was so they could visit.  He assumed Dean must have called his boss and taken some sick leave, but he didn’t know what reason he had given and he suspected it had likely downplayed Dean’s injuries, if even mentioning that he’d been attacked.  Castiel had offered to act as chauffeur for any friends or family of Dean’s who may want to visit but would find it difficult to get to the hospital, but of course Dean had brushed him off, saying he didn’t have anyone in town who was close enough for that.  Cas had heard Dean tell the nurses that he had spoken with his brother, but Sam couldn’t get back to the United States just now as he was overseas doing important work with some charitable organization – one Dean always referred to as “Lawyers Without Borders.”  Castiel could tell Dean was lying about calling Sam, but he didn’t know what to do about it.  Even if he knew how to reach Sam he knew he didn’t have any right to step in and violate Dean’s wishes, but when he imagined Dean suffering through what would certainly be a lengthy and difficult emotional recovery period without the help of any close family, a sick roiling feeling of nausea would rise up in Cas’s gut.  He knew what it was to be alone, and he longed to protect Dean from that emptiness.    

Castiel walked about the courtyard for about an hour, fretting and worrying about Dean and how in the world he could help this wonderful, strong, courageous omega.  Then he headed back to Dean’s floor and as he was passing the nurse’s station, Dean’s nurse called out to him to let him know that they were done and Dean had just been given some more pain medication and appeared to be sleeping.  He peeked into Room 334 and saw that Dean was indeed asleep, and appeared to be free from nightmares at the moment, at least if his easy breathing, smooth forehead and unclenched fists were anything to go by (and Cas was quickly learning that those were the most definitive signs of whether Dean was suffering in his dreams).  So Cas decided he should eat something and extend his break from the dreaded armchair. 

He went down to the cafeteria and bought a sandwich and apple, but could only make himself eat the apple and half the sandwich.  He was just too overwhelmed by sadness at the thought of Dean suffering through his entire recovery alone and Dean’s friends and family having no idea what he was going through.  He imagined Dean’s brother, Sam, finding out about what happened to Dean and that Dean himself had never called him, and Cas’s stomach clenched.  He thought Sam was an alpha, and given how much love and affection Dean’s voice held when he mentioned Sam, he assumed their relationship was mutually affectionate.  Any alpha would be tortured and sickened if they learned a loved one, especially an omega, had been suffering alone and refused their support.  This Sam may be strong enough to recover from a blow like that, but Castiel didn’t think he would be.  Cas longed to find a way to contact Sam himself or to convince Dean to do so, but he was so worried about the fragile peace he had with Dean himself.  If he pushed Dean too hard or violated his trust, Dean could simply send Cas away for good and refuse to allow Cas to visit and care for him.  And Castiel was the only one Dean was permitting to care for him right now.  If he were shut out, Dean would be alone.  He pictured Dean alone in his room, staring at the television and reliving his trauma.  With no one there to distract him, no one there to listen, no one to hold his hand.  He pictured Dean sleeping and tossing in his sleep as nightmares tore through his dreams.  With no one there to soothe and caress him, no one there to tell him he was safe, no one there to suffer with him. 

“Sir, are you all right?”

Castiel looked up into the face of a woman who was touching him lightly on the shoulder and smiling kindly down at him.  _Oh shit!_   Both of his hands were gripping the edge of his table like iron.  He had apparently knocked his cup over and the liquid was dripping off the table.  He could feel tears on his face, and from the sense of a recent sound suddenly stopping he could tell that he must have been mumbling or saying something when she interrupted him.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.  Thank you, I’m fine.  I’ll clean this up.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, honey,” the woman said, as she started to use his own napkins to mop up some of his drink.  “A little spilled water isn’t anything most of us here visiting the hospital would call a real problem.  I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Castiel forced himself to release his grip on the table and flexed his fingers.  “Thank you.  I…  I’m fine, I’m just worried about someone.”

“Yah, I kind a got that,” she said, finishing her cleanup and setting his tray with the wet napkins, empty cup and half-eaten sandwich to one side.  “Obviously someone you love.”

“Oh no,” Cas said.  “We’re not…  He isn’t…  I mean, we’re just neighbors.  But he’s so special.  He’s just amazing and he’s very injured and I don’t know….   I’m sorry, I don’t think I should talk about him to a stranger.  I mean, I’m sorry, you’re very kind, I just…” 

The woman laughed lightly.  “Just neighbors.  Uh huh.  Well you take care of your neighbor.  And yourself.”

Castiel watched her walk away, hearing her voice ringing in his ears.  _Obviously someone you love.  Obviously.  Someone you love.  You love.  Oh God._


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas talk.

When Cas returned to Room 334, Dean was sleeping, and Castiel was able to do a little writing.  He liked to pull the Chair of Stiffness up to the large window in Dean’s room and use the nice, deep windowsill there to scratch away on a small notepad he had acquired in the lobby gift shop.  He had gone in hoping to find something that would make Dean smile, but looking around at the metallic balloons, stuffed animals and bestseller racks, he found nothing inspiring.  In the end, he just snuck a piece of blueberry pie from the cafeteria into Dean’s room.

Cas knew that Dean was anything but okay, and was clearly avoiding discussing (at least with him or any of the hospital personnel as far as he had observed) what had happened to him and any of the emotional burdens and pain he was suffering.  But he was recovering physically.  Most of his bruises had faded, his swollen eye had completed receded, and the cuts that Cas could see on his arms and face were healing well and didn’t appear likely to scar.  Not that scars would make Dean any less beautiful, but seeing Dean’s skin flush to a healthier tone and return to his customary strength made Castiel flush with admiration for Dean and even a touch of pride for being a tiny part of the amazing omega’s recovery. 

When he noticed Dean waking up, Castiel pulled his chair back around to face Dean and said, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean chuckled.  “You don’t really have to say hello like that, Cas.  You’ve been here all day.  In fact you’ve been here for almost three days straight.”

Cas blushed and looked down at his hands in his lap.  “Right, of course, Dean.  I’m sorry.”

Dean sighed.  “Oh Jesus, Cas.  I didn’t mean….  Nevermind.  Just….”

Cas looked up and saw how tired Dean still looked.  Cas inhaled and noted, among Dean’s returning natural scents of cinnamon and was-that-motor-oil?, a hint of something like compost or sulfur rising underneath.  _Christ, Castiel, what are you doing upsetting him?_   “It’s fine, Dean, I—“

“No,” Dean interrupted abruptly and rather loudly.

Castiel startled and his mouth clapped shut.

“No,” Dean continued, more quietly.  “It’s not fine.  I’m not fine.  None of this is fine.  But it sure as _hell_ isn’t _fine_ for me to be snarking at a guy who found me…who brought me…”  Dean paused and licked his lips slowly then swallowed.  “Who has been here with me every minute of the last three days.”

Dean stopped talking, but he didn’t drop Cas’s gaze.  So Cas let himself look.  He let himself stare and drift in the green pools of Dean’s eyes.  He tried to memorize every fleck and exactly where the green shifted to brown.  He was just moving on to the freckles bridging Dean’s nose when Dean said something.

“I’m sorry, Dean.  What did you say?”

Dean licked his lips again and Cas stared as the wet tip of his tongue ran across those plush, soft lips—the perfect bow of his top lip and the full, round shape of—

“I said why are you here, Cas?”

Castiel felt his heart stop for a moment—a little stutter of shellshock.  He felt as if Dean had suddenly cut the string that had been tying them together from somewhere inside their respective chests and that it turned out that string had been attached to a generator that was the only thing keeping Cas’s heart beating.  Of course his heart started beating again, but the ache in his chest didn’t go away.  It loosened and spread into something less sharp but broader, filling in more space in his body.  It didn’t make any sense—he had anticipated Dean asking him this.  He had spent an hour the night before in the waiting room pacing the room and rehearsing in his head what he would say to convince Dean to let him stay.  And to make himself seem not at all like a crazy obsessive dangerous alpha who refused to leave Dean alone.  He couldn’t remember any of it.

“I…” 

Dean simply looked at him.  So Cas tried again.  “I want to…I mean, I need…”  _Shit_!  “I’m sorry, this isn’t about me, it’s obviously your welfare that is important here, Dean.  I do know that.  But you haven’t had any family or other friends here yet, and I didn’t know how to leave…  I mean I don’t…”

Dean was still just holding his gaze and his scent had drifted over into jasmine and leather, so Cas knew he wasn’t angry.  Cas decided to take another breath and try again.

“Dean, I know you asked me a question first and I have not satisfactorily responded yet, but will you allow me to ask you something first?”

Dean smiled at that—not one of his great, beaming smiles, but the fullest smile Cas had seen from Dean since the attack.  “Yeah, Cas, ask me.”

Cas swallowed nervously.  “Have you called anyone to tell them about your condition?”

Dean held the smile on his mouth for a few more moments, but it had disappeared from his eyes as soon as Cas had started forming his sentence.  His face became more serious and his eyes met Cas’s and seemed to flit from his left to right eyes as if searching for something in them.

“No.”

Castiel was a little surprised that Dean hadn’t lied to him as he had the nurses.  “Will you tell me why not?”

Dean again seemed to consider Cas’s question before answering.  Almost two full minutes went by before he spoke again.  “I’m not ready yet, Cas.”

“Won’t your boss be missing you at work soon if not already?”  
“No.  I'm on vacation this week.  No one is expecting to see or hear from me until Monday.”

Castiel digested this.  It was now Tuesday evening and he had found Dean on Saturday night (or early Sunday morning, really), so Dean had just had the historically worst beginning of a vacation possible.

“I would be happy to call anyone you would like on your behalf, Dean.  I’m sure no one would expect you to relive the details of your experience with them.”  _Other than that asshole cop who had come by the hospital earlier that day but departed when Dean appeared unlikely to awaken soon._

“Jesus, Cas, I know that,” Dean said.  “It isn’t that.  I mean, obviously I don’t want to talk to Sammy about…  I’m just not ready.  My family…  I guess you’ve never met most of ‘em.  They’re not blood, most of ‘em, but they’re still family.  Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Charlie…  And Sammy who _is_ my blood, my _brother_ , for fuck’s sake, my main reason for being alive, really.” 

Dean took a deep breath and let it out shakily.  He was getting agitated and Cas longed to hold him, but he couldn’t imagine the abused, pained omega would want to be anywhere near the tight hold of an alpha.  Instead he gently laid his hand, palm up, on the bed next to Dean’s in a silent offer.  Dean looked down and Cas found himself holding his breath until Dean slowly lifted his own hand and set it in Cas’s.  Cas softly curled his fingers around Dean’s and tenderly stroked his thumb over Dean’s hand.

“Cas, none of them are omegas.  Not one other member of my family.  They just don’t know…  I know they love me and fucking Christ I love them so much.  It isn’t about that.  Or maybe it is about that.  Like it just matters to us so much when someone is hurt and if it’s bad…”  Dean looked down at his hand in Cas’s and then back up at Castiel’s eyes.  “If Sammy were hurt this bad, I don’t know how I would survive it, Cas.  And he’s an _alpha_.  I don’t know how he’ll take this happening to me—his brother, his _omega_.  I mean, don’t take that the wrong way, Cas, I’m not _his_ omega, but I’m his brother.  And he loves me like I love him—we’re the main family we had growing up—just each other to rely on day in and day out.”  Dean’s eyes didn’t appear watery, but his voice sounded scratchy—as if he were choked up and holding it in.

Cas waited for Dean to continue, but when he didn’t, he asked, “When he finds out about this after some time has passed, won’t he see your omission as equivalent to a lie?”

“Probably.”  Dean sounded sad.  “It isn’t just that, though, Cas.  And it isn’t just Sam.  They are all—well, maybe except Bobby—just a lot.  A lot of feeling, and love, and presence!  You’re an alpha, so I don’t know if you can understand, Cas, but you also—well, you seem like a loner.  I’ve never seen any family at your house and rarely anyone at all.  So maybe you can get this.  Sometimes people just take up the air in the room and there isn’t enough left.  I usually like a crowded room, but right now it’s like I’m crawling out of my skin whenever the nurses and doctors and techs and all those people are around.  I guess the hospital gets it and that’s why they give omegas our own private rooms ‘cuz I think I’d snap and kill someone if I had to share a room with anyone.  And people who care take up so much _more_ space.  Not really space, more like energy, but not really energy either, it’s like…”

As Dean spoke, Cas’s stomach had started to simmer and he had ceased stroking Dean’s hand.  He was trying to decide whether to withdraw his hand entirely—he didn’t want to invade Dean’s personal space!  He should probably leave Dean in peace at least for a while, but he knew he’d never be able to leave the building for good while Dean was still there.  _I could just stay in the waiting room until they release him.  And then once I have gotten him home safely, I can watch over him from my own house without having to invade his space.  Oh God, poor Dean, he hasn’t had even one moment alone for days because of me and after having been abused and…_

He felt pressure on his hand and looked down.  Dean was squeezing his hand.  Hard.  He looked up.

“Cas, stop.”

“I apologize.  I didn’t mean to drift.”

“It’s alright, Cas.  I’m sorry for babbling on and on like that to you, man.  I don’t know why it seems so important that you get what I’m saying.  It’s really not your problem or anything.  But you asked a question and the answer is that I’m just not ready.  It’s my decision and I have to live with it when I take that step and it just isn’t going to be right now.  Until I am ready I can’t say when it will be, but I need it not to be right now.”

“Dean, I…  Thank you.  It was very…generous of you to share that piece of yourself with me.  I am not certain if I can honestly profess to understand what you are going through, but you are correct that I understand the need for space.”  Castiel took a deep breath and tried to calm his agitated nerves.  He looked at Dean and thought about how brave Dean had just been, spilling a bit of his soul to a near stranger—a strange alpha no less.  How could Dean present such calm and composure mere days after what he had been through—what he was _still_ suffering through?  He was just an incredible creature.  Dean’s courage made Castiel want to run down the hospital corridor shouting in pride or finding one of Dean’s own favorite classic rock anthems to sing.  Maybe one of those march-style Queen tunes like “We Are the Champions.”  Dean deserved _all_ the anthems.  He was indomitable, strong-minded, powerful and fierce while also sensitive, warm, generous and charming.  Another part of Castiel, though, was afraid of what was coming next – concerned about whether he would be allowed to be any part of the rest of Dean’s recuperation.  And more significantly, whether _anyone_ would be allowed in – whether Dean would accept _any_ help to move forward and past this.  Cas longed to help Dean, but he knew he couldn’t force his way into Dean’s life.  They were only neighbors, and Dean had always been friendly but had never shown any interest in cultivating a particular friendship with him.  How would he care for Dean and ensure his healthy recovery, both physically and emotionally?  Who would make sure Dean ate well and took his medications at the prescribed times?  Who would see that he was properly cared for—that his bandages were changed and cleaned, that he slept enough, that he didn’t put too much pressure on his healing body too soon?

“Okay.  So we’re back to you, Cas.  I appreciate everything you’ve done here, man.  But we’re just neighbors—so I still don’t really know why you’re still here.”

The woman from the cafeteria earlier flashed through Cas’s mind:   _Obviously_ _someone_ _you love._ It was his turn to share a little of his own soul with Dean—to try to be as brave as this astonishing omega in front of him.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Cas's turn to talk. :)

_I can do this.  Dean deserves my honesty and trust._   Cas took a deep breath and felt like the walls leaned in a little bit as he did, but he wouldn’t let it stop him.

“I remember the first time I saw you.  I was moving into my house—directing the movers taking the boxes and furniture in—and you were working on your car in your driveway.  You had on jeans and a white t-shirt, both of which were smeared with black grease marks, as were your hands, lower arms and forehead.  You were so absorbed in the project that it appeared you hadn’t even noticed myself and the handful of alpha movers next door and big moving truck.  You transitioned from bending over the engine to sliding under the vehicle’s body with smooth, feline motions and you were humming something I didn’t recognize to yourself while you worked.  With your size and strength I assumed you were an alpha, but as the day progressed, your precise, sleek motions and the small hints of scent from you drifting to my yard convinced me I was wrong.  I was fascinated by the pleasure you were clearly taking in your tasks and the affection your hands expressed as they ran over the curves and edges of your automobile.”

“I have the impression from seeing various men and women depart your house in the morning from time to time that you are not unaccustomed to others appreciating you.  So I assume it will not surprise you that I have been attracted to you ever since that first day.”  Cas blushed a little as he smiled down at their hands.  Looking back up at Dean’s clear cool eyes, he vowed, “But I promise you, Dean, that I am not here seeking to take advantage of your situation.” Dean snorted at that, apparently in amusement.  But Castiel was insistent. “I assure you that I would never use such an incident to get closer to anyone, and that in no way do I see your injuries as making you vulnerable or weak.” 

Cas paused for the full effect of his words to take effect, wanting to ensure that Dean believed him.  After a few seconds, Dean smirked and said quietly, “Yeah, Cas, I get that.”

Cas let out a breath he had not even been aware he was holding.  “Living next door to you I quickly recognized you had more than your share of admirers and that you were, as they say, out of my league.”  Dean raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say anything.  “So perhaps that prior attraction has little to do with answering your question about why I’m here now.  But it would have felt dishonest to pass over it without mention.  The more direct answer to your question is that I’m here because I assume your attacker or attackers turned on your stereo outrageously loud when they left you, though I can’t imagine why, and it woke me up.  I discovered you injured and accompanied you to the hospital—I did not consider why at the time, but I know now that I could not have simply returned to my house to sleep, or even not to sleep, without ensuring you were safe and would survive and heal.  After you awoke and I was assured you were not in critical condition any longer, I…”

As he spoke, Cas’s eyes had drifted down to watch his hand entwined with Dean’s.  He had to be brave and honest.  _Like Dean_.

“I didn’t know how to leave.  I couldn’t leave.  When I left your room, I found it...challenging to leave the building.  It’s as if I was afraid to leave—to be that distant from you.”  He knew his voice was getting quieter as he confessed this to Dean.  “I made myself go home in the middle of the night that first night to clean up, get changes of clothes and a few other things, but even as I was driving away it felt wrong, I was almost sick and I thought about turning around.”  He was almost whispering now.  “It was only when I promised myself that I would come back to St. Michael’s right after I cleaned up and be here for you that I felt okay again.”

He looked up at Dean and saw that Dean’s eyes were dark and wide.  He could get lost in those eyes.  Cas took a deep breath and reminded himself to be as courageous as this beautiful omega.  He raised his voice a bit and said in a rush, “Dean, I have feelings for you.  So I guess in a way that’s the answer to your question.  That’s why I’m here.  But Dean, I do not expect you to reciprocate those feelings.  Not ever—and certainly not right now.”  The words were a flood now, pouring out of him.  “But I do have to ask you:  Will you allow me to care for you while you’re here and I hope after you’re back home as well?  I _need_ to care for you.  More importantly, Dean, I think I _can_ care for you—I think you need that, too.” He was almost tripping over his words now—he was certain it sounded like he was desperately begging for something but he couldn’t stop.  “You need someone.  And until you will let your family and other friends care for you, please allow me to do so?  I promise you that I will always endeavor to respect your need for space.”

Cas had run out of words and he waited to see if he had made a disastrous wrong turn.  Dean was silent for a long moment.  And just as Cas started to panic, Dean said quietly, “I did notice you the day you moved in, you know.  I just didn’t want to introduce myself because I was sweaty and greasy and you looked so good in your fancy button down shirt and tie.”

Cas blinked.  _He thought I looked good!_

Cas watched Dean take a ragged breath, and then say to him, “Cas, can I—will you maybe sit here on the bed for a second?”  Dean pulled his hand from Cas’s and patted the bed next to his side, then pulled his arm out of the way.

Cas sat on the bed next to Dean, careful not to press too hard into his abdomen and risk hurting any of his broken ribs or cuts.  He watched Dean reach for the bed remote and tilt the bed up to support his back and raise him to a more vertical seated position.  Dean was so close to him he could smell the wonderful jasmine and cinnamon scents that meant Dean.  Cas also noted a hint of ammonia (pain), but at the same time a small tendril of something like freshly mown grass that he associated with security and home.  Dean looked intently at Castiel and his eyes drifted down to Cas’s neck.  When he looked back up he said softly, “Can I...scent you, Cas?”

Cas’s heart flipped.

“Yes, Dean.”

He was afraid to hurt Dean, but when Dean didn't move toward him he cautiously leaned forward a few inches until they were chest to chest, being careful not to allow any of his weight to actually rest on Dean.  He tilted his head to the left to allow Dean access to his neck and closed his eyes.  He felt Dean’s breath as he leaned his head forward.  Dean stopped for a few moments just millimeters away and Castiel felt the warmth of his respiration—gently in and out—rhythmically singing to Cas of Dean.  Then Dean delicately rested his nose against the crease of Cas’s neck and Cas felt a swell of warmth and satisfaction travel down his body from their point of contact all the way to his toes.  If he hadn’t been holding himself so still and carefully in consideration of Dean’s condition, he might have swooned.  He felt the fingers of Dean’s right hand where they extended out of his cast gently touching his left hip and at the same time he felt Dean’s left arm slide lightly around his right side and his hand come to rest against the small of Cas’s back.  They were still for a couple minutes, just breathing together, getting used to each other’s rhythm and flow.  Then Dean snuggled into Cas’s neck and inhaled deeply for several seconds, filling his lungs with the alpha’s scent.  He hummed when he exhaled and repeated the process several more times.

As Dean scented him, Cas allowed himself to enjoy being this close to Dean—soaking in his scent and the warm, comfort of his body.  Dean’s scent flourished and extended around him, and he took pleasure in the nuances as it changed.  Dean’s original cinnamon, jasmine and something automotive took on other notes as they sat there.  First he got a whiff of sea breeze (easing pain) and that moment after it rains in spring (renewal). 

Cas held himself still and forced himself not to lean his own face forward into Dean’s neck and inhale deeply.  He had to earn Dean’s trust—he would not violate Dean’s space and the fragile whatever-this-was that they were building.  Dean had been violated in the worst way possible and Cas was determined to show his alpha strength specifically by holding in all of the darker sides of his alpha personality.  He would not seek to possess or control or restrict Dean.

Dean burrowed his nose into Cas’s neck just above his collarbone and Cas was reminded of a cat.  Dean’s breath left a warm wet feeling on his skin and he noticed his own scent starting to shift a bit as he began to feel gratified that Dean was clearly finding something soothing in his scent.  Wafts of oceans and spring rains coming from Dean started to shift and become something warmer.  Cas thought he smelled hints of lilac (relaxation) and citrus (tranquility) and his heart swelled some more.  He briefly imagined it growing so big from the nearness of Dean that it would burst from his chest and he thought he wouldn’t mind that at all if he could still scent Dean healing like this.  _Dean is taking comfort in me—in my scent.  I am helping Dean relax and feel at ease!_   Cas could feel tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and he didn’t mind at all.  This was the most important moment of his life to date and he wanted to soak in it forever and prayed he would be able to remember it always, how the warmth of Dean’s strong chest pressed lightly against his felt, how Dean’s hand resting on his back was a barely there presence, how Dean’s breaths had the most amazing rhythm, like a warm summer breeze through a mountain pass that somehow sounds like a symphony is playing just under the surface that you can almost but not quite hear. 

Then Cas thought he smelled from Dean something like old books that he didn’t know how to interpret.  He was just trying to get more of that bookish scent when he felt Dean slowly withdraw his face and lean back against his bed, Cas opened his eyes and straightened, pulling back from where he had been leaning over Dean.  He saw that Dean’s eyes were extremely dark, as if he were intoxicated, and he looked tired but content.  Cas waited patiently for Dean’s verdict, but Dean showed no signs of speaking, so before he could lose his nerve, Cas asked quietly, “So may I stay and do what I can to assist you, Dean?”

Dean’s long lashes lifted up and he gazed into Cas’s eyes and murmured, “Yeah, Cas.  Yeah.  You can do that.”


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The police interview Dean. WARNING FOR: Brief descriptions of torture, physical abuse, sexual abuse.

The next morning as Dean ate his breakfast, Castiel thought he scented from Dean the homey odors of newly cut lawn (security) and fresh ground coffee (comfort) mixed in with Dean’s regular cinnamon and still lingering (but not overwhelming) scent of ammonia (pain).  He knew that as a result he was putting out his own scent revealing a proud and contended alpha, but he didn’t care.  His heart felt lighter after his conversation with Dean the night before, and he was less cautious about revealing his admiration for the omega.

Of course their mutual ease and comfort couldn’t last in light of the circumstances.  As Dean was finishing his meal, Dr. Mills came in to speak with him.  She wasn’t happy with the results of some of his blood tests—apparently his kidneys were still not functioning well.  Dean had hoped to be released from the hospital in another day or two, but if his kidney function didn’t improve she was considering keeping him longer and possibly ordering dialysis treatment.  While Cas found this news alarming, he schooled his reactions to maintain a calm demeanor and scent for Dean’s benefit.  For his part, neither Dean’s manners nor his scent showed any reaction of fear at this news, just frustration and disappointment.  Dr. Mills ended the visit by cautioning Dean that even if his kidney function did improve and he were discharged in the next couple of days, he would not be able to return to his very physical job for several weeks.  Dean’s scent and mood soured even further at this news, but he didn’t argue with her.

After she left, Cas and Dean broke out the cards, but Dean couldn’t focus on the cards, repeatedly discarding the cards he needed and cursing in frustration.  Just as Castiel was racking his brain for something to distract Dean with, a large alpha in an overcoat entered the room and cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean nodded. 

As Castiel stiffened and felt tightness climb up his spine, the alpha stepped forward and extended his hand for Dean to shake.  “Detective Lafitte.  I’m the lead investigator on your assault case.  Can we talk?”

Castiel felt his stomach flip and anxiety start to course through his body.  Dean, from all appearances, remained perfectly calm.  He shook the detective’s hand, and said simply, “Sure.”

Lafitte looked over at Cas, and said “And you are?”  He didn’t offer his hand.

“Castiel Novak.” 

Lafitte nodded.  “Ah, the neighbor who called it in.” 

It wasn’t a question and he offered nothing more, so Cas didn’t either.  He also didn’t rise from the only guest chair in the room.  _There’s no way I’m leaving this room unless Dean asks me to_ , Cas thought.

The detective turned back to Dean and said, “Mr. Winchester, I know this isn’t going to be pleasant, but I’m going to have to ask you to take me through the events of your assault from the beginning.”  As he spoke, he reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a small notebook and pen.

Cas watched Dean take a slow, deep breath, and almost visibly steel himself.  “Well, you may as well call me Dean, then.”

Lafitte glanced up, clearly surprised.  He looked over at Castiel again, and stated, “We usually prefer to speak with the victim alone, but if Mr. Novak is your alpha and you would prefer him to stay while we talk, that will be fine.”

Castiel had already started to explain that he was not Dean’s alpha, but Dean spoke over him saying, “I want Cas to stay.”  Dean’s voice was loud and firm, but Cas heard a hint of shakiness underneath it and already could smell vinegar creeping into Dean’s scent.  Cas took hold of Dean’s hand and sat back in his chair.

“Certainly,” Lafitte said.  “I’ll be right back and we can get started.”  He stepped briefly from the room and Cas and Dean looked at each other.  Cas smiled, trying to convey the appearance of confidence and safety and already focusing on schooling his scent to try to ensure it would remain calming and soothing. When the detective returned, he was carrying a folding chair which he set up on the opposite side of Dean’s bed from Castiel.

After he had removed his coat and settled it on the back of the chair, Lafitte sat down and opened his notebook.  “Alright, Dean, can you tell me where you were when the assault began and what day it was?”

Dean’s voice was quiet, but clear.  “I was at home.  It was Wednesday night—late, maybe around 1.”

_Wednesday night?!?  What???  Oh my God, Dean was being tortured and abused for three days?!?!?  Oh my God, how could I not have heard?  How did I not notice someone there?  Oh, Jesus Christ, how can he be okay?  What if there are injuries they haven’t even found yet?  What the hell did they do to him?  How could I not have seen something or heard something?  Holy shit, Dean, so…_

Lafitte disrupted Castiel’s runaway thoughts by clearing his throat loudly, and Cas looked up suddenly at the detective and Dean.  They were both staring at him.  He could smell the acrid scent of his own sorrow and concern.  He murmured, “I apologize,” and looked down at his and Dean’s intertwined fingers. 

Detective Lafitte said softly, “Mr. Novak, if this is too much for you, I will have to ask you to step out while I talk with Mr. Winchester.”

Shame washed over Castiel, and he considered whether he should leave.  He needed to help Dean, not make something so difficult even worse.  As he was struggling with indecision, he felt Dean squeeze his hand and looked up into Dean’s eyes.  Dean’s face remained somewhat steely and otherwise passive, but Cas saw fear in his eyes and that was it—he would never leave Dean alone with that fear again.  He forced the tension down from his shoulders and took several deep breaths.  Still looking in Dean’s eyes he said seriously, “I am sorry—it won’t happen again.  I’m fine.”  He looked over at Lafitte.  “Please proceed.”  He turned to Dean and smiled what he hoped was an encouraging smile.  Dean squeezed his hand and a wash of pride and awe in Dean’s strength ran through him.   _Come on, Castiel!  You can do this.  For Dean.  Just don’t think about what he’s saying, just think about your scent, be soothing, think calm, cool, comforting, alpha, warm, strong, safe, proud.  Just be strong for Dean, help him be strong._

Lafitte quietly said to Dean, “Okay, so tell me what you remember.”

Dean cleared his throat and told his story.  He had been at home, just heading to bed when he thought he heard a noise on the first floor.  He hadn’t scented anyone else in the house, so he hadn’t felt any real sense of anxiety, but he did head downstairs to take a look.  As he turned the corner to the stairs, he saw a shadow and something struck the side of his head, hard.  He was knocked out and when he had awoken he was gagged and tied to a chair in his kitchen and daylight was streaming in the windows.

Castiel tried to only half-listen to Dean’s story.  He steeled himself to keep some of his focus on what was happening to Dean in the present—how he smelled, sounded and looked.  Whether he might need a drink or a break.  He tried to distance the story Dean was telling from the present, as something to be noted and jotted down for later review, just as the detective was doing.  He could stress and worry over it later when he was alone.  _Right now I’m a support alpha—I can do this.  Just focus on scent, let him know how strong he is and we are together.  Just be soothing, think calm calm calm…safe safe safe…_

Dean told his story in a sort of monotone, as if it were something that had happened to him years upon years ago.  Only occasionally did his voice shake or his eyes tear up.  He told how a man he had never seen before was there when he awoke.  How the man talked to him, always calmly and quietly.  How he threatened to torture Dean and then did torture him.  He described how he had been moved and manipulated into different locations and positions in his own home—tied twice to his bed, once to his dining room table, twice to some kind of wooden bench that the man had brought in or built, once to the radiator in the kitchen breakfast nook.  He told the detective that the man had injected him with some kind of drug that made him feel tired and heavy, made moving and physically fighting impossible—made it possible for his attacker to move and manipulate him at will.  He described how his attacker had beaten him, both with his fists and then with a wooden rod all over his back, arms and legs; had raped him using the same rod and possibly other objects; had broken his wrist by strapping it to a chair and then later grinding his foot into the already broken bones; had broken every one of his toes one at a time; had burned him with cigars repeatedly; and had cut his flesh with a scalpel.

Whenever Castiel felt his bile rising and his stomach clenching, he reminded himself not to focus on Dean’s words.  He would close his eyes and feel Dean’s hand in his and focus on his own scent:  _calm calm calm safe safe safe soothing good alpha strong protective safe…_

Detective Lafitte repeatedly stopped Dean and asked for more detail.  He asked Dean to describe his attacker in detail, including everything about the clothes he had worn, his scent (or apparently lack thereof), his voice, his hair, even down to the length of his fingernails and how clean they were.  He asked Dean to describe every detail of the implements he used to restrain and torture Dean:  the rope, various items used to gag Dean, cigars, rod, scalpel, everything he could think of.  He asked which of the items had been Dean’s obtained right there at his house and which must have come from outside the home brought by the attacker.  He asked what sounds Dean heard:  whether he heard his neighbor or street noises at any time, whether his attacker listened to the radio, stereo or iPod.  He asked if Dean had seen the man’s cell phone and could describe what make or model it was, if the man had made or received any calls.

Dean patiently answered every question, without showing any of the disgust and appall that Castiel was feeling at Dean’s having to relive all this detail and answer such invasive and horrifying questions.  The interview had gone on for more than two hours by the time the detective closed his notebook and started to put it away in his coat pocket.  Dean was clearly exhausted by this time—his shoulders were slumped and his mouth had a twist of a pained expression to it, while his face seemed as pale as it had been when he had first been admitted.

“Dean, do you know why this man would want to do these things to you?”

Dean snorted and snapped at the detective, “Yeah, man.  Because he’s a disgusting sadist who gets off on other people’s suffering.  Why the fuck do you think?  Maybe you need me to do your job for you.”

Lafitte raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything in response to Dean’s outburst.  Instead he asked “Why do you think he selected you in particular?”

This time Dean just sighed, and offered only, “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“So he never mentioned anything that would indicate if he had seen you somewhere before?  Or if he wanted anything in particular from you?”

“No.  Nothing.”

“And you’re certain you had never seen him before?”

“Yes.  Never.  I would never forget that smarmy self-infatuated face or that lispy whiny voice if I’d ever heard it before.”

“We would like you to come down to the station and look through some mugshots, but that can wait until you’re released from the hospital.”

“Okay.”

“Our forensic teams have completed working in your house, so you’re free to return there at any time and you may…clean up the…scene…whenever you like.  I’m sure the hospital will provide you with references for counseling, but we can also provide the names and numbers of various community resources that you may find of assistance including victims’ support groups and support for family of victims.”

“Is that what I am now?  A victim?”

“Some people I work with prefer to refer to themselves as survivors.  And from what I see, you are definitely that, Mr. Winchester.”

“Yeah, right.  So, we’re done?”

“Yes, we’re done for now.  We will be in touch, and if you think of anything else, please call me any time, night or day.”  Detective Lafitte extended his card for Dean to take.  “We are doing everything we can to find and apprehend your attacker, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean removed his hand from Castiel’s, reached out to take the proffered card, and crumpled it in his fist.  “Thanks a lot.”

For a couple moments, Lafitte just stood there at Dean’s bedside, apparently uncertain what to say or do, then he simply nodded to Castiel, saying “Mr. Novak,” turned and gathered his coat and the folding chair and walked out.

In his wake, there was silence for a few minutes.  Castiel looked at Dean, who had closed his eyes, though Cas knew he wasn’t asleep.  _Oh Jesus, what can I say?  What can I do?  He must be so exhausted, but how will he sleep with all of that fresh again in his mind?  Oh, Dean!  So incredible, to have survived all of that and be here healing, and telling his story, reliving torture that would kill so many of us.  He doesn’t even know how remarkable he is.  I need to help him sleep—he doesn’t get another does of his pain medication for another two hours.  He needs something else soothing, maybe the right music or the right scents, OH!_

Dean’s fist was back at his side though it was still clenching Lafitte’s business card.  Castiel reached out and gently grasped Dean’s fingers and uncurled them from around the card.  Dean opened his eyes and looked at Cas, but let him take the crumpled card and put it in the drawer of Dean’s nightstand.  They looked at each other, and Castiel saw tears had welled up in Dean’s eyes.

“Dean?  Perhaps—would you like to scent me?  I thought—I mean I’m sure you’re exhausted and I—I could get you something else if you like—I just thought it might help you sleep—I would never presume to—I mean, I—“

Dean’s voice was barely a whisper.  “Please.”

Castiel stopped babbling, but was afraid to assume anything.  He would _not_  invade Dean’s personal space if he was not being asked.  He had to be sure.

“Dean?”

Dean took a long, slow breath, and his voice came out a little more clearly, though still very quiet—just a murmur compared to Dean’s usual strong baritone.  “Yes, Cas.  Please.  I would like to scent you.”

Castiel beamed at Dean.  “Of course, Dean.”  As he stood, he saw that Dean was scooting to the far side of his bed, leaving room for Cas on the near side with his unbroken left arm.  Cas gently sat on the bed slightly higher up than Dean was seated and swung his legs up next to Dean’s.  He lifted his right arm to put it above Dean’s head, and Dean lifted his head and tucked his face into the crease of Castiel’s neck and shoulder.  When Castiel stilled, Dean tilted his body a bit and snuggled his face into Cas a little closer, then stilled and inhaled deeply.  He took several more deep breaths and Castiel poured every last ounce of strength he could muster into trying to exude scents of strong alpha, safety, pride in Dean, and comfort.  As some of the tension in Dean’s muscles released, Castiel tentatively reached out with his left arm and lightly caressed Dean’s face.  He saw the creases in Dean’s forehead relax, and felt Dean lay his casted arm gently across Castiel’s stomach.

After about five minutes, he could tell Dean was much more relaxed, but he had still not fallen asleep.  So Castiel started to talk to him quietly, hoping to distract him from whatever dark thoughts he may still be suffering from.

“I also remember the first time we spoke.  You came over to bring me some mail that had been delivered to your house erroneously.  When I opened the door and saw you I almost hyperventilated from nervousness.  You were so handsome close-up, I was immediately tongue-tied and had no idea what to say, but I was so desperate to keep the conversation going.  I have no idea what we talked about, but I remember how you put me at ease—how you were so relaxed and so warm.  You just spoke whenever I couldn’t.  And you constantly held my gaze, and your eyes were so green and so confident.  The way you looked at me made me feel like I was worth talking to—worth your time and that there was nowhere else you would rather be at that moment.”

Dean appeared to be drifting off, so Castiel continued to speak in a low, quiet voice, trying to make his words a sort of lullaby he hoped would steer Dean away from nightmares and help him find good dreams.

“Ever since that day, I have noticed that you make everyone around you feel that way—it wasn’t just me.  You treat everyone with the same respect, regardless of primary gender, secondary gender, background, experience, age, anything.  When you speak with people, even about nothing at all, you really _give_ them something of yourself, and that gift makes them feel somehow _more_ than they did before.  You make everyone around you feel special.  Because _you_ are special.  There is something shining inside you that may not literally be light, but everyone you touch can feel it and is made warmer and more whole by it.  You are the most amazing omega I have ever known.  Not just that, though.  You are the most amazing _man_ —the most amazing _person_ I have ever seen.”

Dean was definitely asleep now, and Castiel closed his eyes and fell asleep listening to his slow, even breathing and feeling the warmth and soft weight of Dean against his side.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes progress progress physically but has a bad day otherwise and Cas tries to do Dean a favor. WARNING FOR: Brief reference to sexual abuse.

When Dean awoke that evening, they read some more of Watership Down and played some more cards.  They didn’t discuss Detective Lafitte or Dean’s attack.  And when the evening nurse told Cas that visiting hours were over, he talked her into another hour.  He read to Dean until Dean fell asleep and then laid his head gently on the bed next to Dean and lightly pressed his lips to the back of Dean’s hand.  He laid there, dozing and enjoying the warmth and nearness of his…friend?...until the nurse came to kick him out for good.  When he lay down on the waiting room couch, the moment he closed his eyes he saw Dean’s beautiful green eyes and he drifted off into them, like a sea that he could cross into a new and different future.

In the morning, Castiel stopped by Room 334 to let Dean know that he had some things he had to do that day.  He made sure that his phone number was prominently located next to the phone on Dean’s nightstand, and implored him to call if he thought of anything at all that he might need or even like to have.  Dean smiled at him and told him he’d better get going.

Now, though, the smells and sights in Dean’s house were overwhelming Castiel.  He knew he was close to having a panic attack, but he had no choice.  He _had_ to finish this.  He had to get this initial cleanup and removal work done so the house could be aired out, the linens cleaned and replaced, and anything else ordered and, if not installed, at least well under way before Dean came home, which might be in just another day or so.  Castiel did not understand how Dean could be expected to ever walk in that door again and be okay, much less come back less than a week later and have any chance of sleeping well or being happy in that home again when surely every room would remind him of the horrors he had been subjected to.  He sure as hell was not going to allow him to see the evidence of those events that had been painted all over the floors and walls of the house and hung in the very air everywhere.

*             *             *

Dean was in pain.  It didn’t help that he was bored and irritable.  He didn’t understand why everything still hurt so much.  Or why Dr. Mills wouldn’t just authorize him some serious medication that would actually help instead of whatever mild drug she had prescribed him that must have been originally intended for a small child.  It sure as hell wasn’t taking care of the throbbing in his toes, wrist and ribs or the sharp pain in his abdomen every time he forgot and bent or twisted his body even slightly.  He hated hospitals and he needed to get out of there.  This was the first day he had really had any time to himself and at first he was grateful for it, but he soon realized that he missed Castiel.  Without his neighbor there, Dean’s mind had nothing to focus on but pain, memories, and what would happen when he was discharged and headed home.  Alone.  He had been thinking about calling security companies to inquire about getting an alarm system installed.  He knew he was being paranoid and ridiculous to imagine The Man would have any interest in returning to torture him further, but it didn’t change the fact that the idea of a security system did help ease his anxiety and fear a little bit.  He would never admit how frightened he was to anyone else, but he had always been crap at lying to himself.  He was scared shitless.  And an alarm system was at least something that was within his control to do.

*             *             *

When Castiel had opened the front door that morning the odor had felt so overwhelming he had actually staggered back two paces before he could catch himself and force some steel into his spine.  Cas thought of Dean’s stiff back and steely face as he spoke to Detective Lafitte and he felt his own strength and power return.  Cas had taken a few difficult paths in his life, and he had never had as good a reason to be tenacious as he did now.  _This is for Dean!_   He strode into the house and went from room to room taking a mental inventory of the tasks to be done.  He forced himself not to remember what Dean had said, not to imagine the pain and suffering Dean had experienced in each one of these rooms.  Instead, he pulled out the pen and notepad he had brought and forced himself to treat it like a job:  linens to be taken off or down and cleaned; upholstery to be cleaned; carpet and rugs to be removed and cleaned or if necessary, replaced; walls to be cleaned; damages to be repaired; odors to be expelled. 

*             *             *

“Fucking shit book!” Dean thought to himself as he slammed the book down on his nightstand.  Hearing Cas read had been such a pleasure, his warm, deep voice always so rhythmic and soothing.  Dean had become completely caught up in the tale of Hazel and his family—that’s how Dean thought of them.  Like Hazel’s bunch of rabbits, his own family was just a conglomeration of people brought together by bonds of experience, loyalty and affection.  But of course with Cas gone on some mysterious errand all day, when Dean in boredom had taken a stab at reading on, Hazel goes and gets fucking shot and trapped all alone in a drainpipe where he knows he’s going to die. 

_‘The silence returned, but still Hazel lay motionless in the whispering chill of the tunnel.  A cold lassitude came over him and he passed into a dreaming, inert stupor, full of cramp and pain.  After a time, a thread of blood began to trickle over the lip of the drain into the trampled, deserted ditch.’_

_That was me.  I was dying, too, when Cas found me.  I was drifting and fading, floating away like the fluffs of a dandelion.  Only the constant, throbbing pain wouldn’t let me go.  I was trapped in my own body, but so close to finding my way out.  If I’d just had a few more minutes I might have been able to escape._

*             *             *

Cas had been proud of his initial assessment and first couple of hours of work.  He had opened all the windows and set up fans to discharge the scents of the attack and the myriad of police personnel (apparently almost entirely alphas), and had plugged in scent warmers to replace the bad with something pleasant and comforting (hopefully).  He had bags of laundry in his car to be dropped off at the overnight cleaner.  He had analyzed the carpet and rugs and already called and ordered replacement carpet for one room and taken one rug out to his car to be taken to a dumpster.  He had been relieved to see that there was no evidence in the house of the wooden bench, rope or other items Dean’s attacker had apparently brought with him and used on Dean (the police must have taken all of that as evidence).  There had been some broken items of Dean’s here and there and Cas had separated anything that appeared significant and cleaned it and removed all the broken glass and other detritus which now was also in trash bags in his car.  He had started his serious cleaning work in the living room, and made a good showing there—getting the walls and carpet scrubbed gloriously clean, the room now smelling of lemon and pine and the only stains he had not been able to remove some small blood spots on the couch.  Luckily those were entirely on the seat cushion covers, which were removable, so he had pulled them and stuffed them in his car with everything else.  He had had similar success in the downstairs hallway, stairway and upstairs hallway.  All he had left now were the kitchen, dining room and Dean’s bedroom.  But he was already exhausted and the mess in those rooms was…daunting.

*             *             *

“Well, Dean,” the nurse, Cassie, said, “It looks like you’ll be getting out of here soon.”

“Yep.  I guess you’ll have to find someone else to stick needles in, eh?”

“Aw, you know you’ll always be my favorite pincushion,” she retorted with a smile, as she filled a small vial with his blood and then deftly withdrew the needle from his arm.  “Okay, so we’re going to take your catheter out now and then you’re going to get a shower.”

Dean actually groaned aloud at that.  Oh thank God!  The thought of getting to stand under steaming warm water for the first time in over a week instantly caused half the muscles in his body to relax in anticpated pleasure.

Cassie chuckled lightly.  “Yeah, I thought you’d like the sound of that.”  She worked quietly on the catheter and then helped him out of bed and they moved slowly to the bathroom.  Dean was pleased with how strong his legs felt, but struggled a bit with balance walking in the boots on his feet that were protecting his toes.

“Don’t worry,” Cassie told him as they shuffled along, “you’ll be issued crutches to help you get around when you go home.”

Dean said nothing—his focus entirely on the prize waiting in the bathroom. 

Once there, Cassie helped him remove his scrubs, bandages and the boots, step into the shower and sit on the shower bench.  Dean was impressed at how adept she was at maneuvering around him and providing support without ever pressing directly on any of his wounds.  She pulled the curtain closed and said, “Alright, Dean, I’m going to let you try this on your own, but I’ll be leaving the bathroom door open, so if you get tired or need anything, just speak up.  Be very gentle with the cuts on your abdomen as you still have some stitches and you _do not_ want to open them back up.  I will hear when the water stops so when you’re done do _not_ step out of here on your own.  I’ll be right back in and help you get dried and dressed and back into bed again.  Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said in a clipped military style.

*             *             *

The smells were still lingering in the dining room when Cas entered with spray bottles, rags and bucket in hand.  He could still smell the vinegar and ammonia of Dean’s fear and pain, but worse was the gasoline odor of perverted pleasure that sadist had felt while torturing Dean.  Cas could hear Dean’s flat, tired voice yesterday telling Lafitte how he had been strapped to this table (his own dining room table!) and sodomized.  “He shoved the rod he had beaten me with before up my ass.”  Dean just said it.  “And he fucked me with it until I was passed out.  Or I guess maybe longer.”  A sports play by play would have had more inflection.  “When I woke up the rod was laying on the table next to me, but something a lot bigger was jammed in my ass.  Felt like it was fucking splitting me in two.  I never saw what it was.”  As if Dean’s voice saying those words wasn’t horrifying enough, Castiel’s mind wouldn’t leave it alone.  He kept seeing Dean stretched across that table, already bruised and beaten, weeping in pain.  He tried to force the vision away, but he couldn’t.  Dean was always in front of him, his bright green eyes wet with tears, his mouth stretched in a grimace of pain, his own special scents completely overwhelmed by fear and pain.  Dean screamed in pain and Cas collapsed to his knees, bent over his bucket, retching out his breakfast as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

*             *             *

Dean heard Cassie’s light laugh as she left the bathroom and he reached out to turn on the water and set the temperature.  The water felt so amazing.  He thought he was in heaven.  He spent minutes just shampooing his hair, lathering and massaging it and scratching his scalp all over.  He was gentler with his face, shoulders and arms, still scattered with healing scratches.  He was so caught up in the pleasure of feeling the water, and even his own hands and the lathery soap, caressing his skin that he had forgotten all about the serious cuts on his chest and stomach until he accidentally brushed one too hard and felt a hiss of pain.  He glanced down and staggered back against the shower wall.  There were angry, red slashing marks all over his torso, slashing every direction, jumbling together in a strange hieroglyphic sort of mesh.  Black stitches threaded throughout the cuts here and there and nothing seemed open or new, but there was some scabbing here and there and the overall effect was still of red slashes that would look like someone had been making tally marks for some long, complex tournament except that they angled in all directions.  He leaned against the shower wall and stared at the mess, catching his breath.

*             *             *

Castiel had never been so bone-tired.  The muscles in his arms and legs were completely spent from crouching and kneeling and scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing some more.  But he would have guessed Dean’s kitchen was now cleaner than the day he’d bought the house.  Cas had scrubbed every last drop of blood and vomit and semen and whatever the fuck else from every inch of the tile, walls, moldings, cabinets and counters.  He had run the dishwasher and cleaned every object on the counter just in case.  The sliding glass doors were clear and sparkling, and he had cleaned the vertical blinds on them one by one until he knew there wasn’t a speck or smudge to be found.  There was still a slight odor of iron (Dean’s blood!) and vinegar (Dean’s pain) drifting in the air, but he was confident that a couple more days of airing out and scent plug-ins would clear it all out.  He was riding a little high from his success—just one more room to go and he could get back to the hospital and check on Dean.  He knew Dean was safe in the hospital, but the boredom was becoming its own sort of torture now.  He saw the trapped, somewhat haunted look in Dean’s eyes more and more lately and knew that being unable to leave the hospital, but having very little to distract from pain and trauma was taking a toll on him.  _Maybe I shouldn’t have left him alone all day.  What if he’s just sitting there and can’t quit thinking about it?  What if he’s just reliving the pain and torture?  What if he naps and has a nightmare?  I should have left something of mine for him to scent—oh Christ, Cas, what the fuck are you talking about?_   After berating himself for a few more moments, Castiel pulled himself together and headed to his last room—Dean’s bedroom.

*             *             *

As Dean gazed at the cuts what looked like individual marks started to come together and merge and he thought he saw more clear shapes.  Yes, there were letters there.  _That pervert had scratched words into his flesh!_   Definitely an E over on the right, and M or W or N over his navel.  It was hard to see upside down and the stitches interfered.  He stared down at his abdomen and the scars seemed to rise and shift and move about like dancing butterflies in a dream.  Then suddenly he saw it all—every line and every stroke was abruptly clear.  COCKSUCKER.  SLUT.  TRASH.  WHORE.  WORTHLESS.  Dean’s arms dropped to his sides and the washcloth fell to the shower floor.  His eyes glazed over and he suddenly couldn’t breathe in the wet thick air.  He tried to gulp for breath and he could feel the water strangling and clogging his throat.  He thought he should call for Cassie, but he couldn’t make a sound.  His knees trembled and shook.  His hidden truth—what only he knew—it was as if The Man had reached into his chest cavity and pulled out the essence of Dean and branded him with it.  He stared at the words—the true Dean.  TRASH.  He felt lightheaded and gasped for breath.  SLUT.  He was so cold and his whole body was shaking.  WORTHLESS.  His legs dropped out from under him.  He slid to the floor and saw black.

*             *             *

Cas had given up.  The walls and carpet in the bedroom were hopeless.  Dean’s blood was splattered everywhere— _how could Dean survive so much blood loss?  Maybe it just seems that way now, but what the fuck else is in here?!?_   He had cleaned up a good deal of vomit and scrubbed at those and the blood and other stains he was certain were semen, which of course led to his body rebelling, but luckily he had nothing else left to throw up by that point.  But he had no energy left and he realized that even if he could scrub at the carpet and walls for hours, the blood had seeped too deeply into the paint and the carpet to be cleaned up—not to mention that the smell of disgusting alpha ejaculate wouldn’t leave the room no matter how much bleach and ammonia he used—he knew the carpet would have to be replaced and the room repainted entirely. 

He had started making calls, but it quickly became clear he wasn’t going to just be able to replace Dean’s existing carpet and paint with the same materials within 48 hours.  He would have to let Dean decide what to do.  He inhaled deeply and he could still smell that sick bastard's come.  And the vinegar scent of frightened omega still permeated in here as well.  He tried to imagine Dean coming back here and trying to sleep in this room and it was like a fist clenching in his chest.  His mind flashed on an imagine of he and Dean coming home from the hospital and pulling up to _his_ house and Dean walking into _his_ house and staying in _his_ guest room.  He could see himself cooking for Dean and learning all of Dean’s favorites.  He could make sure Dean took his medications and cared for his wounds, and he would see that he was safe in bed each night and allowed to rest as much as he needed.  Cas felt himself smiling when he realized what the hell he had been thinking and shook himself out of the fantasy.  He would have to convince Dean to reach out to his family—he could not let him come back to this house.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone so much for the reception to this story. I really appreciate you all putting up with the typos and un-beta-ed nature of this story. I see now why so many folks here are gluttons for comments--they really are a lifeblood that keeps the motivation going, so thanks to everyone who comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscribes!


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a nightmare and Cas deals with the aftermath. WARNING FOR: Violence, physical abuse, sexual abuse.

When Cas got back to the hospital, it was late afternoon and he was completely drained.  He was so tired from his efforts that it was hard to believe there was still any daylight left—his arms and legs were as rubbery as if he had been working in a mine for twelve hours straight.  He stopped by the cafeteria to pick up a sandwich (and to sneak up some pie for Dean), and stopped by the nurse’s station to chat with Cassie for a moment before her shift ended.  He asked how Dean’s day was and she told him that Dean had become exhausted when he was taking a shower, but otherwise was making progress and would likely still be released tomorrow or the next day.

“He was a tad bit irritable,” Cassie said, “but I guess with such a gorgeous alpha,” she winked at him, “it would be tough not to be sad when he’s gone.”  She patted Cas’s upper arm in a friendly manner and then turned around to sort through some files.  Over her shoulder she said, “He’s been sleeping for a couple hours now, we’ll wake him up for dinner soon.”

Cas blushed, thanked her and headed on to Dean’s room.  Dean was still sleeping and Cas sank into the Chair of Stiffness with a low groan.  Dean appeared to be sleeping deeply, so Cas opened his book on supporting attack victims and tried to make some progress.  He hadn’t gotten very far in the last couple days and didn’t feel he had learned much of anything that would really make a difference for Dean.  Most of the advice so far seemed obvious to him:  not to pressure Dean into talking, to listen carefully and with empathy when he did wish to share, not to treat him like a child or invalid.  He did have to admit that he was struggling with the (also obvious) advice not to smother Dean with too much constant attention or care.  He still found it stressful to be away from Dean for too long, and knew that he was asking Dean at least every waking hour if there was anything he needed or wanted.  It was so difficult to just let him be. 

Cas couldn’t fool himself entirely—he was aware that he had become extremely attached to the injured omega in the last several days.  It was difficult to ignore the weight lifting inside his chest as he walked into the hospital building just now, and he knew that when he walked into the room and saw Dean lying in his bed a smile had worked its way across his face.  He could feel it there still when he looked over at Dean’s head resting on the pillow, turned slightly away from him, his strong jawline cleanly shaven now and his freckles standing out on his pale face.  He loved the way Dean’s long eyelashes rested above his cheeks, so fine and delicate.  Dean was such a perfect combination of handsome and pretty, strong and soft.  Cas gave up and set the book aside, taking Dean’s hand in his own instead resting his cheek against the back of it. 

*             *             *

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Dean.”  WHAP!  The rod smashed into Dean’s upper back and he grunted in pain.  “You think you know…” WHAP! Lower back.  “…what pain is?” BAM! Ass. “I think you’re going to find…” WHAP! Upper thighs. “…that there are entire flavors…” WHAM! Middle back. “…and cuisines of pain…” BAM! “…that you have yet to explore…” WHAP!

The Man, who made quite a show of enjoying himself, twirled about next to Dean and Dean saw a few drops of blood fly off the end of the cane-like rod he was holding.  He swirled the other hand in the air and finished his turn with a sudden stop on two feet and a smash of the rod onto Dean’s shoulders.  Dean would have shouted in pain, but it was muffled by the shirt stuffed and duct-taped in his mouth.

The Man crouched in front of Dean just inches away, and hissed, “I want to help you out with that, Dean.”  He stood.  WHAM! Thighs.  “I want…”  BAM!  Lower back.  “…to expand…”  WHAP! “…your mind.”  BAM!  “Knowing true pain, Dean…” BAM! “…in all of its wonderful,” WHAM! “…glorious, forms…” BAM! “…will make you…” WHAM! “…a more complete person.”  WHAP!

Dean was fading.  His head drooped forward off the side of the bench.  His body was pounding and thrumming and screeching in pain all at the same time.  There were sharp pains that stabbed up his spine and across his sides just when he was struck.  There was a constant throbbing heat that coursed with every heartbeat all across his back and ass and thighs.  And there was a dull stinging rising on the surface of his skin, making the air, even in the mostly still room, feel like blades slicing across his back.  The black was welcoming him, and he wanted to drift there, to escape from this moment and dream of something better.

“HEY!!!” The Man roared at Dean, gripping his hair and pulling his head up to peer down at Dean’s face.  Then immediately quiet and hissing again, “Oh, it looks like you need a break from class for a moment, huh?”  He walked away and set his rod down on the kitchen counter.  “That’s okay, Dean.  I understand.  This is a process and I can be patient.  I’ll just find something else to do to entertain myself while you get your strength back up and enjoy learning from these few little samples of pain that we have so far.  After all, they are exquisite and I want to make sure you fully appreciate them.”  As he spoke, The Man released the restraints across Dean’s midsection and flipped him over onto his back.  The light stinging sensation flared to an angry burning everywhere his back and ass rested on the bench.

The Man started humming as he unbuttoned his shirt.  It was some old tune—some classic like from Gene Kelly or maybe Tony Bennett.  He took off his shirt and toed off his shoes and socks.  The humming turned to light singing under his breath.  “…and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…”  He released his belt buckle and unzipped his pants.  “…I seem to find the happiness I seek…” He pushed his pants down his hips and stepped out of them.  “…when we’re out together…”  Naked now, he walked past Dean and picked up a length of rope from the counter, heading around the head of the bench.  “…dancing cheek to cheek.” 

Dean turned his face away, and The Man tsked at him.  “Now now, Dean, it’s rude not to pay attention to your teacher.”  He wrapped the rope around Dean’s head and the bench tightly, holding it in place so Dean could not turn his head to either side any more than a fraction of an inch.  “The Man crouched down next to Dean and inhaled deeply.  “Oohh yessss, Dean.  That’s it.  You smell…”  He inhaled again.  “You smell so very delectable now.  You’re all ammonia and vinegar and sulfur.  It truly is delicious.”  He leaned forward, stuck his tongue out and licked a long strip up Dean’s cheek from ear to nose.  “Mmmm, oh yes.  You truly are a tasty creature, aren’t you?”

The Man rose and Dean saw that his previously flaccid cock was now half-full and plumping quickly.  _Oh Christ, I’ve got to get out of here._   Dean thrashed against his ropes, but they gave not at all and he only succeeded in raising rope burns on his legs and arms.  His head didn’t budge at all.  He tried to throw his weight entirely to one side in hopes of tipping the bench over, but with no momentum to be had all he did was send stinging, burning pain up and down his back where he had been beaten.  He hissed in pain.  _Fuck fuck fuck, what the fuck is wrong with this psycho!_

The Man had walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up a cigar and lighter.  He was now making a show of casually lighting the cigar and tossing the lighter onto the table.  He took a few puffs from the cigar and then walked over to straddle Dean.  He smiled at Dean with his serpent-like smirk, and looked straight down at Dean’s penis, which lay soft against his pubic hair.  The Man flexed his legs and seated himself on Dean, nestling his buttocks right on top of Dean’s cock, and wiggling a bit before settling, pressing Dean’s penis in between his cheeks.  The Man’s weight on Dean caused his ass to press into the bench and increase the burning sensation even further.  Dean hissed in pain again and The Man laughed out loud.  “YES!  Dean, that is perfection.  But let’s take it a little further shall we?”  The Man took hold of his cigar and abruptly pressed the live end into Dean’s chest just below his nipple.  Dean screamed behind his gag and The Man’s smile grew.

The Man wiggled some more and started to hum again.  He puffed on the cigar to refresh the fire and held it hovering above Dean’s chest, clearly enjoying the reaction.  Dean knew his eyes were wide with fear and his scent surely screamed of terror.  _Oh God, I’ve got to calm down, he wants me to be afraid.  I’ve got to stop this.  What am I scared of?  Pain?  I don’t care about pain._   The cigar seared into his stomach two inches above his navel _.  AAACCHH!  Christ!  No!  This doesn’t matter.  He doesn’t matter.  He can’t really hurt me, no way that matters._   The Man puffed on his cigar and winked at Dean.  Dean struggled, trying to focus on being calm and unafraid.  But it was too much—he was too tired and he couldn’t do it.  He was afraid, he was terrified.  He wanted the pain to stop.  Desperately.  But there was just always more.  And The Man’s slimy grin and humming and laughing and wiggling his ass and rubbing on Dean’s cock and _Oh fuck no!_ He was getting hard and how could he… _no, just no, this isn’t right, I don’t like pain, I don’t want this, this sadist is disgusting and I can’t…_   The cigar pressed into his chest an inch to the right of the first spot and Dean screamed and felt his cock throb and try to plump more where it was squeezed under The Man’s ass.  Dean’s stomach turned and his head started to pound.

The Man took hold of his own cock with his free hand and started to stroke himself, staring intently at Dean’s face.  Dean closed his eyes and the man smashed the cigar into his stomach.  “Open your eyes, Dean!”  Dean opened his eyes.  The Man sped up his strokes, starting to breathe harder now, and he picked up his pace with the cigar.  He puffed and burned and puffed and burned and stroked himself more and more viciously, often wiggling his ass hard on Dean’s body and laughing in delight.  Finally, he threw his head back, groaned and shot all over Dean’s chest, his come stinging wherever it landed on Dean’s burns.  He then abruptly stood, scooted back a step and grabbed hold of Dean’s dick and started to stroke him hard and fast.  Dean’s stomach flipped and he wrestled with himself frantically to keep from vomiting in his own mouth with the gag in place, certain it would kill him.  That panic wasn’t enough to stop his body from reacting to the hard friction it was getting, though, and moments later Dean was coming all over himself—mixing in with The Man’s come and the angry red burn marks littering his chest and stomach.

When he raised his eyes to The Man’s face there was something wrong with it.  He was… melting?  His face had lost its definition and it was fading somehow into something different.  And piercing dark blue eyes were staring out of his face where his own watery blue had been.

*             *             *

“Dean.  Dean.  Wake up, please, Dean.”

Dean opened his eyes slowly, but didn’t seem to recognize Cas at first.

“Dean, it’s Castiel.  You’re here at the hospital.  You’re safe.”

“Cas…”

Cas sighed in relief.  Thank God—he had never seen Dean so distressed since being admitted to the hospital.  He offered Dean water and watched carefully while he drank.  Just then the nurse came in with Dean’s dinner and bustled about the room for several minutes, taking Dean’s vitals and straightening the room.  When she left, Dean shoved the rolling table with his food away and leaned back in his bed, closing his eyes. 

Cas could smell the lingering scents of vinegar and rotten cabbage in the room.  “Don’t tell your nurse, but I brought you some pie from the cafeteria.”  He pulled the pie from the bag he had set underneath his chair.  “It’s cherry.”

Dean didn’t even open his eyes.  “No thanks.”

“I was told by the cashier that their cherry is actually very good.  Much better than you would…”  
“ _No_ , Cas.”

Cas put the pie in Dean’s nightstand drawer, and looked at Dean.  His brow was furrowed and he looked pale.  Cas didn’t smell ammonia coming from him so thought his pain couldn’t be flaring up too badly, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Are you in pain, Dean?  Do you need further medication?”

“Jesus Christ, Cas.  No.  I’m fine.”  He sounded angry, but tired, even though Cas knew he had slept quite a few hours that day.  He didn’t want to add to Dean’s stress, but he didn’t think he had any time to let this go any longer—he had to make sure Dean had a safe place to go when he was discharged and he had seen no sign from Dean that he had even considered how he would handle his post-hospital recovery period.

“Of course.  I’m sorry.  Dean, you appear tired, but there is something I was hoping to discuss with you before your discharge.”

Dean sighed quietly, turned his head to face Cas and opened his eyes.  Cas took that as a good sign.  “What is it, Cas?”

“Well, I believe that you will require some assistance caring for yourself and getting around during your initial recovery, and in addition, you may not wish to…your house is not really…you may prefer to stay elsewhere for a while.”  He paused, and looked at Dean.

“Well, I mean, thanks for the concern, I guess, but I’ll be fine.  My house is fine.”

“No, Dean, your house is not fine.  I tried to clean it up, I swear I did everything I could think of and I worked at it for hours and yah, some of it isn’t so bad now and you can definitely go back there and live in the future, and we can hire more people, but some things it won’t matter, you’re going to have to replace some carpet and paint over some areas and it needs a lot more time to air out and remove the scents, and that’s just going to take time and I couldn’t get it all done for tomorrow so fast and I didn’t’ know what kind of carpet and paint you would want.  I thought maybe you would want to change the colors so things would be different and not the same as…  I mean, if you do know what you want, I can definitely order whatever you want and we can arrange for it to be installed and hire some painters and whatever you want, Dean, but today I…”

“Cas!  What the hell?”  Dean’s outburst shook Cas from his own self-reverie and though he had been looking at Dean as he spoke he suddenly realized that Dean didn’t just look angry now.  He looked livid.  “What the fuck were you doing at my house?”

Cas’s face turned warm and he suddenly felt shame.  He had gone into Dean’s house—an omega’s house—without permission.  He hadn’t been invited and he had no right.  He had been in Dean’s private areas, he had disrupted his belongings, he had spread his own alpha scent throughout the house.  He…  Shit.

“Dean, I…”

“Nevermind.  Just…”  Dean looked exhausted again.  His face was pale and the areas under his eyes were dark and bruised looking.  He seemed to shrink in the bed, but his face was hard steel.  “What’s your point?  And quit dancing with me, Cas.  Just out with it, for fuck’s sake.”

The jab pinched at Cas’s chest and he swallowed hard.  “Of course, Dean.  I believe that you should reach out to your family and arrange to stay with one of them for your initial recovery.”  He barely stopped himself from continuing with a whole stream of explanations of why this was the best idea—how his loved ones could assist them and how much it would mean to them, how they would have time to restore Dean’s house, and on and on.  But he didn’t.  Dean _wasn’t_ stupid and he _was_ exhausted.

“No.”

Castiel was stunned.  He had expected an argument from Dean, but he hadn’t expected this.  “No?”

“Yeah, Cas, that’s what I said.  No.  So leave it.”

“But Dean, you can’t be thinking of living alone in that house tomorrow or the next day?”

“I don’t know where I’m gonna go, Cas, but I’m not going to bother my family with this.  You got that?”

“No, Dean, I’m afraid I don’t understand.  Your family loves—”

“That is not the fucking point, Cas.  I am not calling them.  I am not calling Sam, I am not calling Bobby, I am not moving in with any of them, and that is the fucking end of it.”

“But this is important, Dean.  You can’t—”

“Get out, Cas.”  Dean spoke quietly, almost a whisper, but the force of it still hit Cas like a runaway train.

“Dean, please—”

“Get the _fuck_ out of my room, Cas.  Right now.”

Castiel stood slowly and hung his head, staring at the floor.  He had no idea how to make this right.

“I—”

“Not one more fucking word, Cas.  You have no right.  This is none of your business and I want you out of here.”

Cas backed away from Dean’s bed, his legs starting to tremble beneath him.  “Dean—”

“ _Get out!_ ” Dean bellowed at him, and Cas ran for the door, sinking to the ground on the other side of it after it swung shut behind him.


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talking, and a little bit more Benny. Wow--a chapter with no special warnings. Go figure.

Dean woke up to the feeling of Cassie’s fingers around his wrist.  He opened his eyes to see her with her eyes on her watch, checking his pulse.  Without looking up, she whispered, “Good morning, Dean.  How are you feeling today?”

Not sure why she was whispering when he had a private room, Dean automatically whispered back anyway, “Alright so far, I guess,” turning his head to stretch a bit as he spoke and immediately getting his explanation.  Cas was sitting in his usual chair, but slumped forward with the top half of his body leaning on Dean’s bed.  His head was resting on the bed up next to Dean’s left side, turned toward Dean’s head and he was breathing deeply and evenly, apparently fast asleep.

Dean met Cassie’s eyes and raised his eyebrows.  “The night nurse said that he sat outside your door for half the night last night and she eventually took pity on him and let him come in.  Apparently he just watched you sleep for the rest of the night because she told me when I came on shift half an hour ago that he had just finally fallen asleep.”  She lightly petted Cas’s hair as she stepped away, whispering, “That’s one devoted alpha you’ve got there.”

*             *             *

Ouch!  Oh his neck!  As he reached his arm up to rub at his neck and started to gingerly shift position, he opened his eyes and saw—Dean’s arm and shoulder were right there and—Oh shit!  He flicked his eyes up to Dean’s face and yeah, Dean was looking right at him.  Cas lifted his head and straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck.   _Shit shit shit!  How the hell did I fall asleep?!  I just needed to get out of here before Dean woke up—Fuck, the man asks me for one thing, to just get out of his room, and I can’t even do that.  How can I ever expect him to trust me?  I should have just—_

“Mornin’, Cas.”  Dean sounded…amused?

Cas looked at Dean and that was definitely a smirk quirking up the left side of his mouth.  “Um, good morning, Dean.”

“Looks like the waiting room couch wasn’t uncomfortable enough for you, huh?”

“I—”  Cas had no idea how to respond.  They looked at each other for a few moments, until Cas couldn’t hold Dean’s steady gaze any longer.  He felt ashamed and guilty, and he bowed his head to stare at the floor.  Just as he was gathering his courage to stand and go, Dean spoke quietly.

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“No, Dean, you did nothing wrong.  I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy.  You were right to act as you did, and I should not have returned to your room without your invitation last night either.  But I promise you I did not intend to—“

“Cas.”

Cas’s mouth snapped shut and he looked up at Dean.  Dean’s expression was serious now and as their eyes met, Dean held out his hand.  Castiel took it and pressed his cheek to Dean’s flesh, inhaling Dean’s wonderful scent and sharing in the warmth from his skin.

“I need you to shut up and listen to me for a minute.  Please.”

Cas’s stomach fluttered anxiously, but he nodded.

“You’re right, Cas, but you’re also wrong.  I would normally be pissed as hell if an alpha entered my house uninvited and…  Well, I think we might have stepped outside of “normal” here, so I’m not sure the regular rules apply.  You were already in my house days ago, maybe not by invitation, but if you hadn’t come in, who knows what shape I’d be in right now.  And since then…  Well, you know things about me, about my situation, that…  And I shared those things with you—it wasn’t just you finding me.  Since then, we’ve…  you’ve…”

Cas watched Dean close his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath and exhale slowly.  Every instinct in him was screaming to comfort Dean and tell him he had been entirely in the right and no explanations were necessary, but he forced himself to do this one thing that Dean, who never asked for anything, had asked him for—to shut up and listen.

Dean opened his eyes.  “You being here…something about you…your scent, your voice, your smile…hell, maybe it’s your crazy rabbit book….  It’s helping me.  _You_ are helping me.  I know it’s not exactly a shocking confession to admit that I don’t like to ask for help—I don’t like to _need_ help at all.  But I didn’t have to ask you for help, and we barely know each other so, no offense, man, but I never would have expected that you _could_ help.  But you are.”

Cas’s stomach was now fluttering for entirely different reasons.

“And after the detective yesterday…”  Dean said the word ‘detective’ with obvious scorn.  “…you know everything that happened in that house.  So, I mean, I wasn’t really hiding any of that from you.  And I know you were just trying to help.”  Dean paused and looked down for a minute, and Cas thought he sensed a bit of rotting sort of compost scent seeping out of Dean.  Dean’s voice was almost a whisper when he said, “It wasn’t really the house that I was upset about and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”  He looked up and Cas saw tears welling in his eyes.  Castiel held his breath.  “I’m so sorry, Cas.  I don’t want you to go.  Please forgive me.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said in a rush, unable to get it out quickly enough to put his omega at ease.  “Of course I forgive you.”  He bit his tongue to keep from babbling on further.

*             *             *

“You need to run it through the database for all genders, not just alphas!”  Benny yelled into the phone, though secretly he sympathized with the overworked lab, and agreed there was almost no chance Dean Winchester’s attacker had been a non-alpha.  “Well, when will you have it?”  He knew the answer he got of 24 hours was the best he could hope for so he simply said “Fine,” and hung up.

This case!  This fucking case.  It was one of the worst he’d ever seen.  The crime scene had been something out of a horror-porn flick.  Frankly, he hadn’t believed no one had died in that house until the lab confirmed all the blood found was Dean’s.  Mr. Winchester’s.  Damn, why had he let that omega under his skin already?  Of course, he knew why.  What omega would be sitting upright so stiff-backed and strong just three days after something like that, and shake a strange alpha’s hand and invite him to use his first name?  And then tell his entire story without ever breaking down?  Absolutely fucking incredible.  It wasn’t that he hadn’t suffered and wasn’t suffering still.  But he wasn’t broken.  Dean Winchester was the kind of man who was going to rise like a phoenix from the ashes of this experience and somehow be stronger and more beautiful than he ever had been.  Every victim deserved justice, and Benny always worked his ass off to try to get it for them, but this one—he just had to find this sick fuck and put him away.  With no chance of ever getting out.

But he had no witnesses, DNA and fingerprints that didn’t match anyone in the databases, and an MO that didn’t match any prior cases.  Not one goddamn lead.  Clearly this perp had targeted Dean, though, so Dean and his life were Benny’s only way in.

*             *             *

Dr. Mills came in after breakfast with the good news that Dean’s kidneys appeared to be improving and they were planning to send him home the next day.  She explained to Dean the various medications she would be prescribing and physical therapy he would have.  He was not expected to be able to return to his auto shop work for at least 4 weeks, possibly longer.  She instructed Dean that she would be prescribing crutches and the boots for both his feet, and that he would still need assistance for a while dressing and bathing.  She said the nurses would show him how to dress the remaining cuts that were still healing and what signs of infection to look for.  She told him that she was referring him to a psychiatrist and a counselor, for further follow up on his mental and emotional state.  At this Dean tried to demur, but Dr. Mills pressed him and he acquiesced promptly under her rather motherly no-nonsense stare.  They discussed the rest of his follow up and Castiel was pleased to see that despite the long recovery process in front of him and the limitations she was placing on him, Dean was obviously more pleased to be leaving the hospital and his spirits were by far the best Cas had seen him in all week.  He smiled and flirted with Dr. Mills, going so far as to ask her if she would ever consider leaving her husband for a poor old auto mechanic with a penchant for classic rock.  Cas wasn’t even a little surprised when Dean winked at her and the uber-collected Dr. Mills was momentarily flustered mid-sentence.

After she left, riding high on the wonderful scents of Dean’s happiness that were filling the room, Cas asked Dean about the idea that had been solidifying in his mind as he watched Dean sleep the night before.  They were playing cards and Dean was, as always, winning.  By a lot.

“Dean, I have an idea I would like to run by you.”

Dean chuckled and said, “If it’s stopping this game in the middle while I’m ahead of you by 56 points you can forget it, man.  If I gotta take my medicine then so do you.” 

“Um, no, it’s about your discharge tomorrow.”

Dean looked up from his cards, and met Cas’s gaze.  “Okay.”

“I was hoping you would consider coming to stay at my house when you are discharged.”  He waited a moment, and when Dean only raised an eyebrow, he plunged on.  “Obviously it would be convenient for you as far as access to your house both for your belongings, your general sense of home, and to arrange and meet any workers to complete the…clean-up.  You would have another adult present as Dr. Mills has required to assist you in your day to day needs, and I am already…familiar with your circumstances which you have expressed is a positive.  As you know, I write at home so I would be able to be around much of the time, though of course, I would certainly understand when you desired separation and solitude and would be happy to leave the house from time to time to give you space and…” 

He was babbling again.  He licked his lips and took a breath.  “It would also mean a lot to me to be allowed to continue to assist in your recovery.”  That was the closest he could come to telling Dean the truth—that he was terrified of that moment when Dean would return to his own life, separate and apart from Castiel, and close the door on this bond that they had been building.  He both longed for Dean’s recovery—to see Dean whole and well again—and dreaded it.  And he knew the longer he was allowed to remain at Dean’s side, the more devastating the eventual moment would be.  But it didn’t’ matter—he wasn’t going to give up any opportunity to help Dean—not at any cost.

“Do you have a decent oven?”

“Wh-what?”

“You know, an oven?  For baking?”

“Yes, I believe so.  It is a few years old, but was top-of-the-line when I bought it.  I don’t do a lot of baking and don’t use the oven for cooking much since I live alone.”

“Alright.”

Cas was lost.  “Alright what?”

“Alright.  I’ll stay at yours.  Assuming I’m allowed to bake pies.”

*             *             *

After lunch, as Hazel and his group of rabbits were just escaping from a fox, Benny stepped into Dean’s room.  Cas and Dean looked up and Cas said, “Detective Lafitte.”

“Mr. Novak.”  He nodded at Cas, then turned to Dean.  “Dean, how are you feeling today?”

“Not too bad.  They’re letting me out of this prison tomorrow.”

“I’m glad to hear that.  You will let us know where you are going?”

“Sure, I’ll let you know right now.  I’m gonna stay at Cas’s for a while.”

Benny pursed his lips.  “Okay, well, we will certainly know where to find you then.”  He turned to Cas, and said, “Actually, it’s Mr. Novak I was hoping to speak with if I could.”

Just as Cas said “Certainly,” and was setting down his cards, Dean interjected, “What about?”

“Oh, nothing of concern, Dean.  I just wasn’t here the first night when you were brought in so one of our uniforms took Mr. Novak’s initial statement and I would like to go over it and ask a few follow up questions.”

“That’s fine,” Castiel said to Benny.  “I’m available right now if you’d like, do you want to bring a chair in?”

“I’d prefer to speak with you privately, if I may, Mr. Novak.”  He turned to Dean and said, “It’s standard practice for us, Dean.  Nothing to be alarmed about, but Mr. Novak is an adult alpha, so we generally don’t allow other persons to sit in.”

Cas said, “Okay, we can go outside then.  Dean, I’ll be back, call my cell phone if you need anything.”  The two alphas stepped out, Benny closing the door behind them, with a businesslike, “Take care of yourself, Dean.”


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny interviews Cas; Dean and Cas go home. Yay for no special warnings this Chapter (there are brief references to Dean's attack but if you've read this far I think you know what you're getting into).

Cas didn’t know what to think about Detective Lafitte.  With Dean his questions had been probing, but during their conversation his demeanor had lessened a bit in formality over time and he had been patient and kind, though never inappropriately so.  He had appeared to take Dean at his word, often seeking clarification, but never pressing.  With Cas, he remained stiff and stared at him with penetrating eyes, bordering on glaring.  Although the detective would neither confirm nor deny it, Castiel was certain he was near the top on Benny’s list of suspects for Dean’s attacker.  So he must not have trusted Dean’s description of his attacker.  Or perhaps he thought Castiel could have been an accomplice of some kind.  If he’d had any doubt that he was under suspicion, when the Detective asked him to voluntarily provide his fingerprints and DNA, he was certain.  Cas considered calling his lawyer first, but he knew without checking that his attorney would advise him to refuse.  After a moment’s thought, though, he agreed.  Of course his fingerprints would be in Dean’s kitchen, but they wouldn’t be anywhere else.  And he knew firsthand how much of the attacker’s semen had been spread through Dean’s house, and the quicker the police knew it wasn’t Cas’s the quicker they would move on to focus on other suspects. 

And they _had_ to catch this sick fuck.   _Now!_  Cas looked at Detective Lafitte and thought he did look rather hard.  As if he had seen things—knew things—that lurked in the dark shadows most people studiously avoid.  He had a heavy brow and somewhat tired look about him, but came across as someone who would never stop fighting, no matter how exhausted or how weak his odds of winning.  That was exactly the kind of man Cas wanted searching for Dean’s attacker.  When Benny was done asking Cas questions about every interaction he’d ever had with Dean and every detail of his evening Saturday night before and after finding Dean, he gave Cas his card and instructed him to go to the station to provide his fingerprints and DNA.  They shook hands, and as Cas was turning away to go back inside the hospital, the detective said, “Mr. Novak?”

Cas turned around.

“How long have you been in love with Dean?”

“What?”  It burst out of Cas as almost a yell.

The detective actually seemed taken aback a bit.  But he only paused for a moment before replying, “I asked how long you’ve been in love with Mr. Winchester.”

“I…  I’m…  I don’t see….”  Cas stared at Detective Lafitte and drew himself in, stiffer, more upright.  “That is none of your business.”

The infuriating detective suddenly laughed out loud.  “That’s true.  But you can’t blame a detective for wanting to know more.  You know, we both want the same thing here.  Dean’s assailant.  Behind bars.  For a very long time.” 

 _So, he DOESN’T suspect me?_ Castiel looked at Benny and said cautiously, “Yes.  Behind bars.  Or worse.”  _Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that to a cop._   There was just something about being around Benny that brought out his most alpha tendencies.

But Benny just laughed again and said, “Yes, I bet there are several other scenarios for this perp that you would find equally—or more—satisfying.”  He turned and walked away, and called back over his shoulder, “And don’t you worry, Castiel…”  He pronounced Cas’s name slowly, exaggerating each syllable and with too much emphasis on the last.  Cass-tee-EHL.  “…I’m not gonna tell him.  But I’m guessing he doesn’t need anyone’s help figuring it out.”  And then he turned and walked away, and Cas could hear him chuckling under his breath.

*             *             *

After Detective Lafitte’s questioning, Cas spent much of Dean’s last evening in the hospital interrogating him about his favorite toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant and so on.  When Dean suggested that rather than going shopping, he just head over to Dean’s house and grab his things out of the bathroom, Cas’s resulting blank look made Dean laugh out loud so hard he wrapped his arm around his chest when his ribs stabbed in pain.  Dean was willing, though, to give him a long list of baking supplies and pie ingredients so he could quickly get to work and make for all his lost pie-eating time stuck in the hospital.   Dean didn’t question Cas when he left the hospital briefly to run his errand to the police station, and for some reason he was relieved not to have to tell Dean about it.  He wasn’t sure if he didn’t want to admit to Dean that he may be a suspect or didn’t want Dean thinking about things like DNA and fingerprints and the messy truth of what might help or might not help catch the psychopath that had abused him.

That evening and the next morning, Dean watched as Cas recorded on his notepad everything he could learn from the nursing staff about Dean’s recovery process, medications and likely therapy course.  He made sure to track every dosage with details on times of day to be administered and side effects or interaction concerns to watch out for.  By the time Dr. Mills came by on Saturday morning for her last visit to give final approval of his discharge and answer any questions he had, Dean was referring to Cas as “my personal assistant.”  And Cas did have questions for her, making copious notes regarding her answers and advice.  When she left, it was Castiel she handed her card to.  But Dean took her hand as she was drawing it back and drew it up to his lips, saying, “Thanks for everything, Doc,” and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.  Cas was sure she would never admit, if asked, that she had been blushing when she left the room.

*             *             *

Benny was not particularly surprised, but certainly pleased when he returned to the station later and found that Cas had already been there to donate his samples, and they had already been sent to the lab.  Unfortunately, it was pretty clear that Castiel Novak was a dead-end as far as leads, which Benny was in dire need of.  He had started that afternoon visiting a few places Dean had told him he frequented—his favorite bar, his place of employment—and on a whim he had stopped at the closest porn shop to Dean’s house.  It was a lucky shot as the clerk definitely remembered the gorgeous omega, so he had spent some time asking about other men who frequented the place.  Of course the clerk couldn’t remember anyone in particular bothering Dean or even paying special or unwanted attention to him, outside of the usual attention such an attractive omega would receive, but Benny still had hopes it might lead to something.  This freak had become obsessed with Dean somewhere at some point and his fixation sure as hell had some kind of sexual component. 

Now, he picked up the thick envelope from his desk and stuffed it in his bag.  Tonight he would go over Dean’s phone records, bank and credit card information and hope that among the long list of people and places to check out, that one all-important clue would be in there somewhere.

*             *             *

As they pulled out of St. Michael’s’ parking lot, Dean found a radio station and started to sing along loudly to the music.  He spent most of the drive home looking out the window as Cas drove.  Cas thought he could listen to that sound happily for the rest of his life.  When they pulled into Cas’s driveway, Dean’s eyes were on his house, but his expression was blank and Cas couldn’t tell what he was thinking.  His scent was neutral, the happiness of the hospital release still hanging in the air between them, and when the car stopped, he smiled at Cas and swung his door open.  Cas had to shout at him to wait for help and rush out of the car to get around to the passenger side before Dean could try to get out without his crutches.

“Wow, Cas, you’re not gonna turn into Nurse Ratched on me, are you?  All strict and militant?”  He winked at Cas, tucked the crutches under his arms and started toward the front door.  Cas hurried ahead and unlocked the door for Dean just as he reached it.  He watched Dean enter his home and his heart was beating so hard that he couldn’t believe Dean couldn’t hear it, too.  Holy fuck!  How am I not gonna screw this up?  Helping Dean is the most important thing I’ve ever done.  From outside the door he could see Dean, having paused briefly in the living room to look around, now heading down the hall to the kitchen.  Even with boots on both feet and crutches, he still moved with an ease and grace as if walking on makeshift stilts under his arms was something he did every day.  The sun through the windows shined through the spiky ends of his hair and there was something godlike about him.  When Dean turned the corner and shouted something to him about his stove, he took a deep breath and stepped into the house.

Settling Dean in was remarkably easy.  Dean simply smiled and nodded as he showed him the guest room that he would be staying in, guest bathroom, and the rest of the house.  He remarked on Cas’s endless bookshelves full of novels.  He smiled when he saw the grill and told Cas the one of their first orders of business would have to be exposing Cas to Dean’s Mouth-Watering-So-Perfect-You’ll-Jizz-Your-Pants Burgers.  When he’d seen the oven he’d been thrilled and he seemed to genuinely look forward to working in Cas’s kitchen.  He made no reference to wanting to visit his own house, to Cas’s great relief.

After they’d ordered in some pizza for dinner (since Cas had not yet gone on his epic grocery shopping trip), Dean suggested they watch a movie together.  This led to much discussion of options and upon learning that Cas had never seen Alien, Dean insisted that they watch it and possibly its sequel, Aliens, immediately.  Dean found the movie on demand and cued it up.  When the pizza arrived he lowered the lights and pressed play and they both settled into the sofa next to each other.  Cas had never been so happy in his own living room—the couch seemed more comfortable, the TV screen seemed brighter, and his home sure as hell smelled better.  Cinnamon and jasmine and car-engine-and-leather-whatever scents drifted and floated all around him and it was like being in heaven.  Although with a frightening alien occasionally jumping out at you.  Once, when the alien jumped out toward the end of the movie, Cas’s right hand lurched out of its own accord and grabbed Dean’s leg in surprise, maybe a little too hard.  But Dean didn’t flinch, he just took Cas’s hand in his own and twined their fingers together, never taking his eyes off the TV.  Cas was a little embarrassed, but he wasn’t about to let go of Dean’s hand.

When the first movie ended, Cas got up and brought Dean his evening medicines, remarking, “I still feel like I’m on hospital time.  For a minute, I thought a nurse was going to come in here and kick me out so you could sleep.”

Dean chuckled and the two debated who had slept worse at the hospital between the two of them, with Cas ultimately winning since Dean had an actual bed and pain meds that helped make him drowsy.  After a pause, Cas suggested Dean should probably get to sleep, and Dean looked surprised, and said, “Oh, no way, man!  You don’t think you’re getting out of watching Aliens tonight, do you?  It’s not like other sequels—it’s really fucking good, too.  Some people think it’s better even.”

Cas had no chance against that smile.  He sat back on the couch next to Dean and settled in.  Before he had a chance to wonder about it, Dean picked his hand back up and pulled it into his lap to hold as if they had done that every day for years.  A deep warmth started at the top of Cas’s spine and swelled and grew until it had spread all the way down his spine and through his legs to his very toes.  He felt as if cinnamon and jasmine had taken form into a blanket that was wrapping itself around him, snuggling tight up against his shape and holding him close, enveloping every inch of his skin in joy and comfort.  He let the movie take him away again and didn’t notice or think anything else until the end credits started to roll.  He turned his head to Dean and saw that he had fallen asleep and slid over at some point, with his head resting up against Cas’s shoulder.

Cas smiled at Dean, gently slid out and up from the couch, then turned and bent to pick Dean up, bridal style, from the couch.  Dean woke up, and started to protest, but Cas just whispered that this was going to be a lot easier than him working his crutches up the stairs in his tired condition, and Dean apparently elected not to fight him on it.  Dean was already drifting back asleep when they reached the top of the stairs and Dean was still in comfortable scrubs from the hospital, so Cas just set him on his bed, tucked the blankets around him and turned his light out.

Part of him wanted to stay and sleep on the floor next to Dean’s bed where he could soak up Dean’s wonderful scents all night long, but he knew better than to invade Dean’s space like that.  Instead, he shut the door behind him and went back to his own room and stared at the ceiling with an idiotic smile on his face until he finally drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the big picture for this fic pretty clear and the outline is coming together, but I'm still having some second act problems figuring out how the puzzle pieces would best fit together, so I think chapter updates might be slightly slower coming out for a bit, but hoping you all will still keep coming back and reading and will bear with me! Thanks for reading along so far--this process is so much more fun that I imagined because YOU GUYS!!!


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a little about Dean and Benny gets a break in the case. WARNING FOR: Self harm, pain kink, blood.

_Fifteen Years Ago_

Dean understood that he was sick in the head.  And he knew he couldn’t ever let his father or little brother know.  He’d tried to change—to be the way he was supposed to be.  He’d been with a couple alpha boys, but never ones that would hurt him—never alphas that were too big, too dangerous—never alphas that might remind him how disgusting he was.  Dean had tried to focus on what he was expected to want:  soft, curvy, busty girls.  Winking at them and making them smile, taking their clothes off and sliding into their pussies, feeling their soft lips on his and their hands gently pressing into his back.  He yearned for it to be enough—to completely sink into ecstasy when he felt their wet heat and soft skin, when they whispered how much they liked him and how good he felt.    

Shit, he’d worked hard at sex—he was the most sexually active sixteen-year-old he knew.  Even though he was an omega, he had always known people loved his looks, and he’d used that to his advantage.  He’d learned to flirt, to flatter, to seduce.  He’d learned how to tell what they liked—which girls loved it when you gnawed at their nipples, which guys wanted you to suckle their balls, which girls would scream when you sucked their clit, which guys would come in your mouth when you stuck a pinky in their ass.  By fifteen he had already become an expert at oral sex.  He could make anyone come in three minutes or he could drag it out, stringing them along, up to and then back from the edge for half an hour, until they were panting and begging him to come. 

And he’d fucked plenty, too, guys and girls both.  And let them fuck him.  He learned by accident and practice—fingers shoved deep inside person after person, searching and probing and studying—about G-spots and prostates.  He could press two fingers inside any girl, press on her abdomen at that perfect spot below her navel and make her come.  He could angle his cock in a guy’s ass to hit that perfect spot every time and fuck him until he screamed Dean’s name while he spurted his jizz everywhere.  He had something of a reputation at school, but he didn’t mind.  They could think whatever they wanted about him as long as it wasn’t the truth. 

He liked the feeling his reputation and skill gave him—it was a kind of power.  And yah, sex felt good.  He was a teenage boy after all, so it wasn’t like performance was a problem.  He could get hard, stay hard and come hard, deep inside a pretty girl.  Or boy.  But none of it fixed him.  None of it took the sickness away.  He had almost fooled himself for a while—had thought maybe he could be happy, or at least forget about what he genuinely wanted.  Had thought that maybe he could fit in this life—be what he knew Dad and Sammy wanted him to be—thought he was.  Could be _worth_ something.  But that had been a daydream, the edges of which were fading more and more in the hard, cold light of reality.  He was never going to be happy with the fantasy—the regular life of partners caressing and touching, of warm, soft licks in the dark.  He knew now that he was always going to be wrong.  This was the moment—he had to just accept his vile desires.  He would just make sure he always kept them secret.  And hope his family never found out how sick and useless he truly was.

Tears were streaming down his face, but his cock was ragingly hard.  He slid a finger through the blood seeping from the cut on his thigh and brought it to his lips.  A quiet groan slipped from his throat when he tasted it.  He brought his hand back down to his thigh and smeared the blood around, liking the way it looked against the pale skin.  He started to strip his cock hard and fast with the other hand.  Pressed three fingers hard into the cut, digging in and the pain made his eyes water.  _Oh god, oh yes, I’m so close._   He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears and his spine tingled in pleasure.  Frantically, he reached his bloody fingers over to his nightstand to grab the loose razor blade.  He dug the blade into his thigh, cutting a line in his flesh right next to the first.  His wet blood bloomed out behind the drag of the blade and, a second later, the stinging, burning heat rushed over him.  _Fuck, that’s amazing—it feels so good—yes oh yes, fucking Christ!_  It wasn’t just in the cut or just in his thigh—the pain was a hot electric surge that ran down his legs and up his spine at the same time.  It rushed through his entire body, curling his toes, pulling his balls up tight to his body, arching his back.  He was still jacking himself roughly with his other hand and as he pulled the blade away from his skin he flew over the edge, coming hard all over his own stomach and fist. 

*             *             *

_Present_

Benny reached for his phone, grateful for the break from scanning through months of Dean’s phone records.  He needed to just talk to the omega—without his cooperation he couldn’t go much further, really he’d already crossed the line.  But there it was again.  _This case!_   There was something about it—something about the sick fuck attacker, or something about Dean, or fuck, maybe something about Benny—he just needed to stop this freak.  He’d woken up in a sweat that morning imagining his brother coming home to find his beautiful omega wife, tortured and beaten and raped like Dean.  He’d had to race to make it to the bathroom before he threw up and washed his mouth out with the last cold swallow of coffee from his mug, still sitting there from the night before. 

He pressed the receive call button.  “Lafitte.”

“It’s Walker.  We got a couple hits on the DNA from the Winchester case.  You’re gonna want to see these right away.”

Benny was instantly bolt upright.  “Tell me.”

“Two homicide cases, a female omega in Iowa and a male beta in Tennessee.  Clear signs of physical abuse, sexual abuse and restraints.” 

Benny whistled.  “I’m coming in.”

*             *             *

In the morning, Cas was up before Dean, bustling away in the kitchen.  When Dean tottered his way into the kitchen, he saw Cas standing over a sizzling pan of frying bacon, fully dressed but with his hair still sticking up in all directions.  He said, “Good morning, Cas,” and pulled up a bar stool. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, smiling over at him.  “Perfect timing.  Pancakes or waffles?”

“Pancakes.  Definitely.  With lots of syrup.  Is there coffee?”

Cas reached up to a cabinet and pulled Dean out a mug and, gesturing to the coffee maker at the end of the counter, said, “Coffee.  Definitely.”

They had a comfortable breakfast, talking about Cas’s planned trip to the grocery store that day and what they would eat in the next few days.  After breakfast, Dean said he was going to take a shower and Cas jumped up to head up the stairs in front of him.

“The nurses advised me that until your toes heal it is inadvisable for you to step in and out of a tub to shower, so I thought you should probably use the large shower stall in my bathroom.  I set up the shower chair we brought home in there already, and this morning I went to your house and grabbed the things I thought you would want from your bathroom, so your shampoo, conditioner and body wash are all in there already.”  They had reached the door to Dean’s room.  “I’ll pull some towels out for you, but I keep them in the closet in my bathroom, so you can always grab more whenever you like.”

Dean waited for him to stop talking, and said, “That sounds great, Cas.”

Castiel suddenly felt awkward standing there.  “Okay, I’ll go clean up the kitchen.  Just shout out when you’re done and I’ll come up and help re-dress your wounds.”

“No, that’s okay, man, I can handle it.  You can go ahead to the store.”

“Dean,” Cas said patiently, “there is no way I’m leaving you alone in this house the first time you are showering here after you collapsed in the shower the other day.  You may still be too weak—“

“That isn’t going to happen, Cas.”  Dean sounded irritated and was looking at him so intently that Cas felt it was almost a glare.  “That—I was just really worn out that day, man.  You know I’m doing better and I can take a fu—a shower—by myself like a big boy.”

Cas stepped back and his hands were held up slightly in front of him as if approaching a dangerous animal.  “Of course, Dean.  I have no doubt you are capable of bathing, and I will set out the dressings and ointment the hospital gave us in the bathroom, so you can do your own bandages.  But I really am not comfortable completely leaving the house this first time, so I will make myself busy downstairs.”  Dean was still staring at him intently, but the look was less piercing now.  “I hope you understand.”  Cas dropped his hands and headed to his room to set up the bathroom.

Dean’s stomach dropped at the feeling he had basically slapped Cas in the face in exchange for his perpetual kindness.  But at least that hurdle was passed and once he had survived Shower Number One with flying colors, then hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry anymore about Cas seeing— _the truth about him_ , his mind helpfully supplied—those goddamn cuts on his stomach and chest.


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean spend their day together with mixed results.

After Dean’s shower, the day went rather smoothly, Cas was pleased to see that Dean had plenty of energy and seemed in very good spirits.  He showed no signs of wanting to go to his house, though he did at one point go out to “visit his Baby,” as he put it, walking around the car with one hand caressing the metal and then getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. 

“Listen to that purr, Cas.  Have you ever heard such a beautiful sound?”  Cas could think of one or two.  Like Dean’s slightly growly voice in the morning when he was just waking up.  Or his low baritone when he dropped his voice to murmur something especially flirtatious to one of the nurses.

Cas had been slightly afraid Dean might want to drive somewhere, which he was not supposed to do while he still had boots on both feet, but he simply sat in his car for a while, listening and caressing the seats and dashboard, then leaning his head back and listening to music for a few minutes.  After that, he looked under the engine for a moment, but he made no sign of wanting to dig in for any physical repair work, to Cas’s relief.  And for the rest of the afternoon, Dean seemed to be in an even better mood.  When Cas brought the groceries home, Dean met him in the kitchen and automatically started unpacking the bags as Cas brought them in.  He whistled while he worked, and Cas tried not to get too attached to the gorgeous omega working away in his kitchen, smelling of Impala and jasmine.

After the best dinner Cas could remember in ages, thanks to Dean, topped off by Dean’s incredible apple pie, the two settled on the couch.  Dean found a marathon of Dr. Sexy reruns and Cas rolled his eyes, but didn’t object.  Cas watched as Dean scooted and twisted about in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Are you alright?  I don’t believe we are allowed to give you any more pain medication until bedtime…”  He couldn’t help that the concern showed in his voice.

“Oh, yah, it’s not really that.  It’s nothing bad, just my muscles are really sore lately.  In my upper back and neck—sort of a deep ache.  I don’t know, it might not even be from…  It might just be using the crutches so much or sleeping in a strange bed.  It’ll pass.”  Dean rubbed at his neck as he spoke.

“Ah!” Cas said.  “Finally, something I can help with.  Come here.”  He turned sideways and scooted back in his seat to place his back against the sofa arm.  He spread his legs and gestured at a spot on the couch between them.

Dean raised his eyebrows and said, his voice carrying that classic tone of Winchester coquetry, “Gee, Cas, I didn’t think you were going to require that kind of payment for your services.”

Something inside Castiel whined in frustration.  If only the omega really meant his flirtatious words.  But he kept his tone light, matching Dean’s teasing with his own.  “Thank you for the offer, Dean, but not right now.  Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll take you up on that later.  Now just turn around and sit in front of me—I think I can help with your back.”

Dean seemed to consider, then without another word, just moved to sit in between Cas’s legs, back to him.  Cas raised his hands to Dean’s shoulders and started to press his fingers and thumbs gently into Dean’s muscles there, rubbing in a slow circular rhythm.  Dean immediately groaned and dropped his head forward in clear pleasure.

“Wow, Cas, where’d you learn that?”

“Here and there.”

“Mmmmfff.  Well here feels great and there isn’t bad either.”

“Take this off,” Cas said, tugging at Dean’s shirt.  Dean hesitated for a second and Cas thought he saw him lightly rubbing his fingers across his stomach through the t-shirt, apparently tracing the bandages that Cas knew were taped there.  Then Dean pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it on the coffee table.

Cas stared at the marks on Dean’s back.  There were thin pink and white lines, new and old healed scars, crisscrossing Dean’s upper and lower back.  Some yellow and greenish areas of skin showed where bruises were still healing in some portions of Dean’s shoulders, neck and lower back.  A whisp of rotting compost smell came from Dean and Cas realized he’d been staring and hadn’t moved.  He slid his hands gently up Dean’s back and started rubbing gently at his lower neck.  Dean groaned quietly again and dropped his chin to his chest.  The rotten smell faded somewhat and Cas concentrated on his work—on trying to ease Dean’s pain. 

He disagreed with Dean that the pain wasn’t related to his attack.  The horrendous beating he had suffered had clearly taken a terrible toll on all of his muscles.  Cas worked smooth, soft, steady strokes up and down Dean’s back, trying to ease the clenched and tense tissue.  The scarred skin did nothing to reduce the solid, masculine feel of Dean’s shoulders and back under his hands, if anything they were proof of his resilience and strength.  Cas alternately pressed the palms of his hands and fingers into Dean’s back, trying to reach the deeper muscle layers and paying special attention to each spot that caused Dean to groan or flinch.  They fell into a sort of dazed state—Cas lost in his work and Dean, with his eyes closed, reveling in the sensation of strain and pressure easing and starting to drift away.

As Cas worked, he started to notice Dean’s scent changing.  At first, the cinnamon and jasmine of Dean, which were always present but had been subdued ever since they’d been home, bloomed brighter around them.  Cas tried not to make it obvious how much joy he was taking from being enveloped in these unique, perfect smells of Dean.  It was hard not to take exaggerated, deep inhales with each breath, though, when those perfect warm, sweet scents were everywhere around him now.  After a while, he started to notice telltale notes that his efforts were succeeding at least somewhat.  Hints of lilac and sea breezes drifted back to him, getting stronger as he pressed his fingers into the knots buried in Dean’s shoulder, while being careful to avoid going to close to his injured collarbone.  The sea breeze odor grew stronger and lilac shifted into citrus, and Cas could imagine himself walking through an orange grove next to the ocean.

Dean moaned with the feeling when Cas hit a particular spot at the bottom of his neck.  It was clear to Cas that this must have been where one or more particularly vicious blows landed as the skin there was marked with a thin strip of pink newly-healed skin and ugly green and yellow fading bruises spread out from the spot.  So Cas focused there, gently kneading around the area, farther out at first then circling inward.  Dean was clearly feeling the pleasure of pain working out through his muscles, so Cas dug in a bit further with his fingers and was rewarded with more and slightly louder moans from Dean.  He massaged and kneaded and Dean’s skin warmed under his fingers.  Dean was so gorgeous, the way the strong line of his neck sloped into shoulder and then smooth, shapely arms.  The way his upper back sloped down and narrowed toward his waist.  The way…he smelled now of chocolate and sandalwood…was Dean becoming aroused?  Cas’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t slow or stop.  He didn’t want to disturb the omega, so clearly relaxed and comfortable for a change.  But Dean definitely smelled aroused and a vision flashed into Cas’s mind of his own lips pressing to the base of Dean’s neck and covering Dean’s skin with soft kisses.  Cas shook his head and forced himself back to reality.  _No!  This is Dean, he’s not interested in me that way and he’s just suffered the most disgusting attack._   He forced himself to focus on his own scent, trying to maintain it as calm, protective and comforting; forcing out the edge of arousal that was starting to weave in.  _Come on, Castiel!  Calm calm calm be good for Dean he deserves safety he deserves respect cool cool cool easy safe calm…._

As he’d struggled, Cas had continued working Dean’s muscles around the sensitive spot and hadn’t realized how hard he had been pressing—deep into Dean’s torn muscles.  Suddenly, as Cas dug in with his thumb right next to the point of the scar, Dean’s head flew up and he uttered a loud pained groan.  Cas’s hands jumped back from Dean of their own accord and they were both still.  Cas could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears in the silence.  _Du-dunh._   Dean was taking a shuddering breath—was he shaking?  _Oh god!  Du-dunh._   Then Dean had launched himself from the couch and was practically running down the hall, in a strange limping hobble.  He flew into the bathroom and slammed the door.  Castiel was left in the wake of Dean’s exit, surrounded by intense smells of sandalwood, rotten cabbage and sulfur.  _Ohhh fuck fuck FUCK!  How could I do that?  How could I lose myself and press so hard.  I’ve hurt him!  How could I hurt him like that?  He’s supposed to be able to trust me._   Cas’s eyes were tearing up.  He didn’t know what to do.

He stood, picked up Dean’s crutches, and walked down to the bathroom.  The sulfur and rotten cabbage smells were stronger here.  He didn’t understand it.  Dean should be angry with him, not…ashamed? 

“Dean?”  He knew he sounded too alarmed, and schooled his voice into a calmer, steadier tone.  “Are you okay?”

*             *             *

Dean was sitting on the stool, panting, his head in his hands, fingers clenched into his hair.  He stared at the crotch of his sweats, where the clear outline of his hard cock stood out.  He tugged harder on his hair.  _Fuck!_

“Dean?  Are you okay?”

Dean’s head pounded.  He was such a disgusting waste.  Cas just tried to help.  He had done so much for Dean—turned his entire life upside down for the omega.  Shit, Dean had been Castiel’s entire focus 24 hours a day for the last 9 fucking days.  And this is what he got for it.  A sick twist of an omega, hard and horny because Cas had finally touched him _that_ way—had pressed hard enough at the right spot—and the pain had shot through Dean’s spine right the fuck into his dick.  God, that had been amazing—it was so sharp and so strong—it was so much better than any pain Dean had ever been able to inflict on himself.  Dean had never imagined that Castiel would have such strong hands.  Of course, he was an alpha, but those fingers had dug into Dean’s stressed and torn muscles with such confidence and power.  Oh God, if Castiel knew how sick and perverted Dean really was!  If he knew what a worthless deviant he had let into his house—into his life.

“Dean?”  Cas sounded worried.

Dean took a deep breath and coming under the door he smelled—butterscotch?  And vanilla?  His fingers unclenched a bit and he almost laughed.  Of course, Cas wasn’t angry.  Cas wasn’t disgusted with him—because Cas didn’t know.  So he was standing outside his own bathroom door just feeling empathy and worry for the depraved piece of omega trash huddling inside.  Dean cleared his throat and tried to sound assured.  “I’m fine, Cas.  I’m sorry, I just…”  There was really no excuse, so Dean didn’t try.  “I’m fine.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Ummm…  Okay, Dean.  I’ll leave your crutches here by the door.”  He heard Cas lean the crutches against the wall, and then there was no sound.  After a minute, he heard Cas walk away toward the kitchen.    

*             *             *

Castiel puttered about the kitchen, finding ways to keep busy.  Trying not to think about what Dean might be thinking of Cas as he sat, suffering, in the bathroom.  He loaded and started the dishwasher, trying _not_ to think about how he had _hurt Dean_.  He did the few hand dishes and put them away, trying _not_ to think about how Dean would ever trust him with his personal safety again.  He wiped down all the counters, trying _not_ to think about Dean’s moan of pain and the jerk of his body when Cas had hurt him.  He set out Dean’s bedtime medication, trying _not_ to think about the shudder he’d heard in Dean’s voice.

When he couldn’t think of anything else to do in the kitchen, he headed back to the living room and pressed play on the TV remote.  He sat there in a daze, having no idea what was going on in the show playing out before him.  After a few minutes, though, Dean came in and stood, leaning on his crutches on the other side of the coffee table from Cas.  He looked just as beautiful as ever—nothing about him showed any sign that he was angry with Castiel or still in pain.  Cas inhaled gently, and caught a hint of that rotten cabbage smell, but even that was mostly gone.  Dean looked and smelled entirely neutral.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.  I’m afraid I—”  Dean’s cell phone rang where it lay on the coffee table.

They both looked at it, surprised.  Cas hadn’t seen Dean look at the device even once since he’d brought it over from Dean’s house the day before.  After a moment, Dean reached down, picked it up and answered with a gruff, “Hello?”  Cas heard a man’s voice and watched Dean listen then say, “Uh, okay, sure.  Tomorrow morning is fine.  I can’t drive, so—”  A pause.  “Yah, okay.  I’m sure Cas won’t care.”  A pause.  “Alright.  See ya.”  He hung up and looked at Castiel.  “That was the detective.  He wants to come by here tomorrow morning at 10:00 to talk to me some more.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t mind, right?”

“Of course not, Dean.  This is…I want you to think of this as your home.  But if you would rather go to the station, I would be happy to drive you.”

“No, it’s fine.”  Dean reached a hand up and scratched at the back of his head.  “Uh, I think I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Cas nodded and reminded Dean about his medication, and watched as Dean went to the kitchen and then came back and headed up the stairs.


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a nightmare; Benny arrives to talk to Dean. And luck you all: a chapter with no special warnings!

_Thmmpf!_   Castiel jolted upright in his bed.  He held his breath and listened, but there was nothing.  He looked at his alarm clock.  4:07 AM.  He shook his head a bit and twisted to get out of bed, padding over to his bathroom for a drink of water.  He stared in the mirror, noticing his eyes looking red and bloodshot to match the perpetual unkempt nature of his hair.  Despite getting in bed unusually early after the incident with Dean, it had taken him hours to fall asleep.  He had tossed and turned, wracked with guilt and concern for the omega, helpless to stop himself from dwelling on how to make it up to Dean and re-earn his trust, despite being certain that Dean would not want to discuss the matter.    

He reached for the tap and heard a brief noise coming from the south end of his room.  The side next to Dean’s room.  He was instantly on alert, already recalling his evening and certain that he had set the alarm before he went to bed.  He rushed to the hallway and down to Dean’s room and then stopped before his closed door.  His hand, which had already been reaching out when he realized he shouldn’t go in, hovered over the doorknob.  Then he heard a whimpering sort of noise from Dean and his indecision was broken as he rushed in.  It was dark in the room and Cas was confused at first as he stared at an empty bed.  Then he heard a noise, turned and saw Dean huddled in a mass on the floor in the corner next to the opposite side of the bed.  Cas knelt next him and reached out, gently gripping the omega’s arm.  Dean appeared to still be sleeping, but he was moving around in an agitated manner, occasionally whimpering and murmuring to himself words that Cas couldn’t distinguish. 

Cas stroked Dean’s hairline with the other hand and tried to croon his now habitual assurances to the man:  “Dean, it’s Castiel.  I’m here.  You’re safe.  It’s okay now, I’m here with you.  I promise you’re safe and I’m not going to leave you.”  Dean’s entire room smelled of anguish, reminding him of the night he’d found Dean, a cloud of salt, vinegar and ammonia.  Cas stroked Dean’s face and added praise and admiration to his patter:  “We’re here in your room Dean, you’re safe in our—my home.  It’s all okay, now.  You are so brave, Dean, and I’m going to keep you safe always.  You are so strong and you’ve been doing so well.”  Dean whined in his throat, still murmuring under his breath occasionally, but Cas could already smell that now familiar shift in Dean’s scent as the vinegar odor of fear faded and the grass/coffee smells of comfort and security started to seep into its place. 

The tight knot that had sprung up in Cas’s chest slowly started to ease along with the shift in Dean’s scent.  Then abruptly that knot leapt into his throat when he felt one of Dean’s hands clutching at his leg.  He moved his hand from Dean’s arm to take hold of the hand reaching for him, and when he grasped Dean’s hand, Dean clutched back tightly and shuffled his body tight up against Cas’s kneeling form, placing his head on Cas’s leg.  Cas was stunned for a moment, holding his breath, until he heard Dean whimper quietly again and he lurched out of his shock.  He resumed stroking Dean’s face and hair, quietly crooning affirmations to him.  When Dean had quieted, Cas lifted him up and stood (thanking God quietly for his alpha strength), and placed Dean gently back in his bed.  He straightened Dean’s blankets, tucking them over the omega, and knelt on the floor next to his bed.  He bowed his head, pressing his lips to the back of Dean’s hand and whispered, “You’re safe, Dean.  You are going to be fine—you are already doing so amazingly.  I am in awe of how resilient you are.  You’re doing so so good, Dean.”

“No, not good, Cas.”

Cas saw that Dean’s eyes were slightly open.  He looked not fully awake, almost intoxicated, but he was definitely not asleep.  “I know, Dean, I know you don’t feel great yet, but you are getting better.  And you’re going to be fine.  Because you’re so strong and so good.”

Dean’s breath hitched and his voice sounded strangled when he said, “Not good like you think, Cas.”  Cas saw a tear slide down Dean’s cheek and he felt a hard twisting sort of lurch right in the middle of his own chest.

“Oh Dean, you’re wrong.  I’m afraid I have to disagree with you.  You are the most beautiful per—”

Dean spoke again, interrupting him.  “No, I’m sick, Cas, I’m not right, but I…I need you to know…”  Dean spoke haltingly and Cas barely breathed.  “What that man did.…  What happened to me…I didn’t want that…I wouldn’t ask for that…I didn’t like that…”

“Fuck, Dean, of course not!  Of _course_ I know that!”

“No, Cas, you don’t.  I mean, you shouldn’t...you can’t.  But see you can…because…well, just, because…Cas, I promise you…I didn’t want that.”

Cas was so lost and confused, he didn’t understand what Dean was trying to say.  Why Dean would be worried Castiel might think he _wanted_ to be beaten and abused by that fucking psychopath.  He had learned so much about Dean this week.  Outwardly, Dean put on a brash, confident exterior—he was cocky and bold.  Anyone would expect he was an alpha until they were close enough to scent him.  But Cas had learned that some of that was an act layered over insecurities that clearly pre-dated Dean’s attack.  He now understood that Dean had little or no faith in his own self-worth.  He had begun to suspect this week that some part of Dean felt that he _deserved_ what had happened to him.  Had his sleep-muddled mind confused wanting with deserving in the wake of whatever nightmare he’d had?  

Cas didn’t know.  But he did know that Dean was suffering.  And Cas was an alpha and he was _not_ going to let his—this—amazing omega suffer like this.  He drew himself in and focused on his own body and all the love and empathy and compassion he had for Dean.  As he thought about Dean—his generosity, his strength, his beauty, his humor, his passion—his own pheromones shifted and changed.  He pushed out to Dean a blanket of scent full of everything he couldn’t put into words.  It said _love, empathy, compassion, safety, trust, protection_ , but he knew that far stronger than anything else, mixing in and through everything else, was _proud alpha_.  “I don’t care what you think you have to be ashamed of, Dean.  You are beautiful and strong and kind.  You are worthy.” 

Dean’s green eyes were wide and dark and stared at him intently, as if searching for the truth behind his words.  After a moment, Dean whispered, “Stay?”

Castiel nodded, and slowly and gently lay down on top of the covers next to Dean.  He pulled Dean’s head to him, tucking the omega’s face to his neck, and petted Dean’s hair gently.  “It’s okay, Dean, I’m here and you’re safe now.  You can go to sleep now—I’ll be here with you.”

Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply once.  Then again.  And again.  Until his breathing evened out and eventually Cas joined him in sleep.

*             *             *

When Castiel woke up, Dean was already up, dressed, and working away in the kitchen.  When Cas walked in, Dean was rolling out some dough on the counter and smiled up at him.  “Coffee?”

“God, yes.  But I’ll get it,” Cas said, heading over to the coffee machine.  Dean whistled as he worked, and Cas was put at ease by his apparent good mood despite the prior night’s trauma.  Cas ate some cereal for breakfast and headed off to shower and clean up just as Dean was filling the pie pan with a delicious-smelling apple mixture.

When Benny arrived, the pie had just come out of the oven and the house smelled heavenly.  Cas opened the door for the detective and led him into the living room where Dean was settled on the couch.  After an initial round of handshaking and the offer of coffee was made, Benny said, “Dean, I have some information for you about the progress of your case, and some additional questions I’d like to ask.”

“Okay, sure.”  He swung his legs off the couch to sit up straight and indicated a chair opposite him for the detective.

Benny glanced over at Cas then back to Dean.  “Is there somewhere private we can speak?”

Cas bristled a bit, and said, “Is that necessary, Detective?”

Benny turned his attention to Cas.  “Yes, Mr. Novak.  I’m afraid it is.  I have some confidential matters to discuss with Mr. Winchester.  You are of course welcome to stay close if you feel Dean may need you, but I’d rather leave it up to him what he shares with you of our interview afterward.”  Benny turned to Dean.  “If you aren’t comfortable speaking with me alone, Dean, then I can arrange to have another officer come join us.”

Dean shrugged.  “No, it’s fine.  Um, Cas, maybe we can use your office?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas said.  “This way, Detective.”  He led the way down the hallway to his office and Dean followed them on his crutches.  Cas grabbed some papers from his desk as Dean settled in his desk chair and Benny dropped his coat on one of the guest chairs and took his place in the other.  “I’ll be right out in the kitchen, Dean, if you need anything.”  Cas looked at Dean carefully until the omega nodded, and then he left, pulling the door shut.

As Benny opened his notebook he said, “So it looks like you’re feeling better, Dean.”

“Yeah, I guess so.  These crutches are a pain the ass,” Dean said, nodding with his head toward the hated things.

“I don’t doubt it.  And you seem to be settling in here at Mr. Novak’s house pretty well.”

Dean looked at Benny sharply, but he didn’t react.  Maybe he wasn’t digging—wasn’t _insinuating_ anything.  “Cas has been…really great.  You know he cleaned my house up?  I haven’t been over to see it yet, but apparently he spent hours scrubbing everything clean.”  He didn’t know why he’d shared that.

“Wow.  That…can’t have been easy.”  Dean could have sworn Benny sounded impressed.  

There was an awkward moment of silence until Dean said, “So can we get on with this then?”

Benny chuckled, then quickly grew serious as he thought about what he needed to say.  “Well, Dean, we think your attacker has done this before.  At least twice that we know of so far, maybe more that we haven’t found yet.”

Dean’s upset showed in his voice.  “Oh shit.  Are those vic…survivors…okay?”

“No, I’m afraid the two prior victims didn’t survive.  We believe we are now looking for a murderer.  A serial murderer.”

Dean stared at Benny.  “You mean, I…I’m the only one he didn’t kill?”

“The only one that we know of so far, Dean.  These are still early stages in the investigation.”  Benny paused, apparently giving Dean a moment, then continued.  “While the news of other victims is not something we would hope for, it has given us more facts and potential leads.  That’s why I’m here today, Dean.”  Benny looked directly at Dean.  “If you want to help us catch this man, Dean, then I need you to be straight with me.”

Dean bristled.  He spoke slowly, exaggerating each word.  “I _have_ been straight with you, _Detective_.  Why don’t _you_ tell _me_ nice and _straight_ , what you’re getting at exactly?”

Benny reacted immediately, clearly apologetic, putting his notepad down and leaning forward in his chair.  “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to imply that you had lied or intentionally withheld information from us.  It’s just important that you be honest with me today…and going forward.  I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Dean.  Just the opposite.  We’re brothers in arms here.  We have to work _together_ if we’re going to catch this fre—individual.  That’s why I thought you might prefer to speak alone.  Mr. Novak made it clear to me that he isn’t your alpha…at least not formally…and that you don’t have a history together prior to your attack.  I have to ask you some very private questions about your life and I …wasn’t sure if you would want to share those details with him in the room.”

Dean looked at Benny.  There was something about him that he liked.  He was direct—and had probably just been more open about his thought process than the average detective.  Dean felt that with what he had just been through it would be natural to be suspicious of everyone—especially alphas.  But as he thought about it he realized that some part of him just instinctively trusted Detective Lafitte.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said.  “I get it.”  He took a deep breath and leaned back a bit.  “So what is this private stuff you want to know?”


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some talking: Benny and Dean; Dean and Cas. And it's another chapter with no special warnings!

“Are you familiar with the term ‘BDSM’?”

Dean’s face showed no reaction, but he nodded.

“I need to know if you frequent any shops, organizations, clubs or websites focusing on BDSM.”

Dean held Benny’s gaze as he said, “Yes.”

Benny slid his notepad across the desk to Dean.  “I need you to write all their names down for me and, if it wasn’t online, their location.”

Dean stared at Benny.  “Detective, I—“

“Benny."

“What?”

“Call me Benny.”  He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and said, “I don’t feel right asking you these things and you calling me ‘Detective Lafitte’.”

Dean’s mouth twisted in a half smile.  “Sure, _Benny_.  So, uh, does that mean you think this guy finds his…picks people from these kinds of places?”

To Dean’s surprise, all Benny said was “Yes.  I do.”  He definitely liked this guy.

Dean wrote for a couple minutes and slid the notepad back to Benny.

Benny picked it up and looked.  _Yes!_   There it was—spankbank.com in Dean’s scratchy handwriting.  Just underneath the name of the local video shop that Benny had stopped by last week.  There were two other websites Dean had listed, but Benny didn’t recognize either of them—they didn’t match the other two victims’ files.

“How long have you utilized the SpankBank website?”

“Years.  Like maybe 5 or 6 years.”

“Have you had any interactions with other users there that made you uncomfortable?”

Dean laughed.  “Fuck, yeah.  Lots.  Every omega on the internet will tell you—you better have some better criteria than that, man.”

“Okay, so what about any interactions that made you more uncomfortable than the average jerk?  Any that made you afraid?”

“Naw, man, I don’t go there.  If someone feels hinky, I don’t meet ‘em in real life.  And honestly, that’s most alphas—I’ve only met a handful from that site in real life.”

“I’d like you to provide their names and addresses, if you have them.  Did any of those encounters become violent?”

Dean raised one eyebrow.

“Okay, let me rephrase.  Did any of those encounters cross the line of what you’d agreed to?”

“Only one, but I broke his nose and that was the end of it.”

“Dean, I’d like you to provide us your profile and login information for these sites.”

For the first time, Dean seemed uncomfortable, shifting a bit in his seat and tapping the fingers of one hand on his leg.  “Are you…  So you’re gonna review like my whole record?  Like full message history and shit?”

Benny would have sugar coated it for a lot of people.  Probably most people.  Especially a vulnerable omega, recovering from the most personal and soul-tearing sort of assault.  But it was already clear that the hard truth was his best way in with Dean.  “Yes.”  Dean nodded slightly as if he heard what he’d expected to hear, but he didn’t say anything.  “And Dean, we may be able to get it all without your help by subpoenaing the records.  But if you would grant permission and access that will save us a lot of time.”

Dean was looking down at his lap—picking at his pants now.  “I don’t know.  Is it confidential?  I mean, will Cas—my friends or family find out what I…   I mean, whatever you see about me…?”  Dean looked up and stared into Benny’s eyes, looking for something.

Benny flinched.  He wished he could tell the omega what he wanted to hear, but he wasn’t going to lie to him.  “It is.  While we’re working on the case.  I can promise you I’m not going to share anything you have told me here with Castiel or anyone else.  If we find your attacker, though, and it goes to trial, then anything used in the investigation might come out and be part of the record.”  Benny leaned forward in his seat still holding Dean’s gaze, his voice low and earnest.  “But Dean, if I can figure out what you and the other two vi…people this guy attacked had in common then maybe I can catch him before he targets someone else.”  Dean nodded slightly and appeared to be contemplating Benny’s words so Benny pushed ahead. “Listen, Brother, I wasn’t kidding when I said you were a survivor.  You’re the only one we know of who has survived this prick.  And I know you’re brave enough to help me take him down.”

 

Later, as he was putting away his notebook, Benny said, “Dean, one more thing.”

Dean settled his crutches under his arms.  “What’s that?”

“It would probably be best if you stayed here or with another alpha for a while.  Preferably until we catch this guy.”

“Aww, I didn’t know you cared,” Dean tossed off in his typical smartass, flirty style, turning for the door.

Benny touched Dean’s elbow.  “I’m serious, Brother.  I can’t imagine what you’ve been through and I don’t want to make you feel any more unsafe than you already do.”  Dean started to demur, but Benny forged right on, his voice rising in power.  “And I want you to trust me that we _are_ going to find this fucker and put him away for a long time.  But the truth is that right now I don’t know what set this guy off or what set him after you.”  Dean thought Benny had been going to say more, but he suddenly stopped and took a deep breath, looking hard at Dean.  “You just need to be smart and stay as safe as you can, Dean.  And that means _not_ living alone.”

Dean blinked and said, “Alright.”

*             *             *            

After Benny left, Dean warmed up soup and made them grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.  Cas smiled widely when Dean set it in front of him where he was working at the kitchen table with a bunch of papers and his laptop, apparently doing research for his next book.

Dean sat down at the table next to him and stirred his spoon about in his soup bowl nervously.  “I don’t know if I should stay here any more, Cas.”

Cas’s head flew up and he stared at Dean, wide eyed.  “Wha--  Have I done something wrong, Dean?  If I’ve made you uncomfortable in some way, I can—”

“Oh shit, no, Cas,” Dean interrupted.  “No, you’ve been great.  It’s not that.  It’s just…  I think it might be dangerous.  For you.  You know, because of me.”

Castiel just looked at Dean confusedly.

Dean sighed and said, “I think Benny is worried this guy might come after me again.”

“Benny?”

“Detective Lafitte.”

“Ah.  Detective Lafitte…Benny…told you that?  That your attacker might attempt to strike again?”

“Shit, no.  But I could tell it’s what he’s thinking.”

“And your reaction to this news was to be concerned for _my_ safety?”

“Yeah, man.  Of course it was.  If that psycho comes after me here you’re gonna be in danger and I—”  Dean drifted off as Cas took hold of his hand that had been laying on the table.

Cas was looking at him with that intense look he sometimes had, his blue eyes extra bright and his brow slightly furrowed.  “Dean, you are so incredible.  And you don’t even realize it.  Most omegas…most people…in your situation would fear for themselves, and reasonably so.  But not you—you are….  Well, I fear we are at cross purposes here, Dean, as it is _my_ intention to keep _you_ safe from your attacker.  And I promise you that I am not going to stop pursuing that goal whether you are staying here with me or not.”  Cas paused, and Dean stared at Cas as if uncertain how to respond.  So Castiel pushed on.  “Though it will be easiest for me to accomplish that goal if you are living here.  So perhaps instead of you leaving we can just work together to keep each other safe?”

Dean’s mouth quirked up on one side, and he said, “Sounds to me like you’ll do anything to keep my pie-making skills close at hand now that you’ve had a taste.”

Castiel chuckled lightly, squeezed Dean’s hand briefly, then let it go and picked up his sandwich.  “Hmm, well, let’s see how your grilled cheese skills are.”

 

After lunch, Dean’s physical therapist arrived and the rest of the day flowed by rather quickly.  The therapist worked with Dean for an hour, then lectured both Cas and Dean about what Dean should do and shouldn’t do, and left him with a sheet spelling out his daily routine of exercises for the next two weeks.  After that, Cas drove Dean to the counseling appointment he had promised Dr. Mills he would go to.  Dean emerged from the counselor’s office looking a bit cloudy, but clearly preferring not to talk about it.  So they finished the rest of their errands for the day and after dinner, Cas agreed right away when Dean suggested they continue his film education with the Die Hard movies.  This time Dean immediately stretched out and dropped his head onto Cas’s lap, and Cas spent the rest of the evening fighting his desire to constantly pet Dean’s hair and stare at the perfect outlines of his face.

When they went upstairs to bed, as they reached Dean’s room and Castiel was walking past, Dean reached out and took hold of his arm.  Cas turned back and met Dean’s eyes, which were a dark jade green in the shadows of the hallway.  “Thanks, Cas,” Dean said quietly.  “For everything.”

Cas smiled, but his tone was serious.  “You are more than welcome, Dean.”  Dean nodded, turned and shut his door behind him, and Cas whispered, “To everything.”


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a phone call; Benny works the case; Cas and Dean visit Dean's house WARNING FOR: References and descriptions of violence, abuse, etc. Not actual detailed scenes, but still thought maybe it deserved a warning.

“Hey, Sammy.”

Sam was surprised Dean picked up.  He’d been sure it was going to roll over to voicemail as it had the last three times he’d called.  And he knew it was somewhat early in the morning in Dean’s time zone.  But then, Dean always knew how to ride that edge of falling out of touch and just when you were actually getting worried, calling you up with a sarcastic joke and stories of sexual conquests you could never un-hear.  “Dean!  Hey!”

Dean’s rumbly chuckle came through the line.  “Man, _you_ called _me_.  Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Yah yah, whatever,” Sam said amiably.  “So how’s my much older and shorter brother doing?”

“Better than you, bitch.”

“Jerk.”  Sam smiled into the phone.

“How is it on safari?”

Sam rolled his eyes.  “We’re not in the middle of the desert, Dean.  I am in an actual city, you know.  Seriously, though, it’s really going great.  During the day we’re setting up wells and running sanitation systems and at night I’m teaching kids and young adults.  We even started an early pre-law program that can help lead to some of these kids getting into law school.  I go to sleep exhausted every night but it really feels like we’re helping people, you know?  I mean it sounds fucking pretentious as shit, but I feel like I’m actually _saving_ people.”

“Shit, Sam.  That’s amazing.”

“Yeah.”  They were both quiet for a minute.  Then Sam asked, “So what about you?  Who’s your latest heartbreak victim?”

Seconds passed and Dean was silent.

“Dean?  You there?”

Dean cleared his throat.  “I’m here, Sammy.”  A few more seconds, then, “Well, I sort of got…  mugged, I guess, last Saturday night, and—”

“What?!  What happened, Dean?  Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  It’s no big deal—some prick alpha just broke into my house—”

“Oh shit!” Sam said quietly in the background.

“—and felt like showing me how tough he was.”

“Oh my God, Dean.  So are you…alright?”

“Don’t you worry, little brother.  I’m still the most gorgeous thing you’ll ever see.  But these crutches are a fucking pain in the ass.  I got a couple broken bones so Doc says I’m not allowed back to work at the shop for like 4 more weeks.  Which totally sucks—I’m already bored as shit.”

Sam was quiet, trying to hear between the lines—figure out _how much_ Dean was covering.  Because the question wasn’t _if_.  “Maybe you’ll have to finally try reading books.”

“Actually, I do want to finish this rabbit book that Cas was reading to me in the hospital, like Watership something…”

“Hospital?  Reading?  How long were you in the hospital, Dean?  And who is ‘Cass’?”  Sam was already calculating the money in his bank accounts and how long it would take him to get back to the States.

“Oh, don’t panic, Sammy.  Cas is Castiel, my neighbor.  I think you’ve heard me mention him before.  He moved in a few years ago that summer we had the super bad heatwave?  Anyway, he visited me in the hospital and started reading this book to me about these rabbits—”

“I know what Watership Down is, Dean.  Quit trying to distract me.  How long were you in the hospital?  Are you even out now?  Shit, for all I know you’re calling me from the goddamn ICU!”

“Woah, calm down.  Christ!  I’m not in the hospital.  I was just in for a few days so they could run all their tests and make sure I didn’t have any permanent injuries.  I have a few broken bones, these stupid crutches, and otherwise bumps and bruises that are all healing.  Damn, Sam.  Chill out.”

Sam bristled.  “I think I should come home.”

“No way!  No way, Sammy.  I’m serious.  I’m totally fine and Cas is taking real good care of me, alright?”

“Oh really?”  Sam was a whole different kind of suspicious now.  “Is that so?”

“Good grief, Sam.  It isn’t like that.  He’s my neighbor for Christ’s sake.  He’s just a good guy, so you don’t need to worry about me, alright?”

“Well, I don’t know, Dean.  If some strange guy is taking care of you now, I think I need to know a little more about him since I’m the closest thing you have to an alpha.  Speaking of which, what gender is this guy?  And what does he do for a living?”

Dean groaned loudly.  “I’m not answering any of that.  You may be an alpha, but you’re my little brother and you better get back to filling the stomachs and minds of the downtrodden.”

“Okay, Dean.  I won’t come home.  If you promise to call Bobby.”

“Yeah, fine, Sammy, whatever.”

“I mean it, Dean.  When we get off the phone I’m gonna call him and tell him to get down there to kick your ass if he doesn’t hear from you in 48 hours.”

“I got it.  I’ll call him.”  Dean sounded irritated, but not outright angry, so Sam considered that a win.

“And the next time I call I want to talk to this Castiel.”

Dean laughed out loud at that.  “Don’t push it, Sam.  Man, I miss when I could put you over my knee.”  
Sam laughed, too, glad to hear an actual note of joy in Dean’s voice.  “Yeah, well, those days are long over, big brother.  Take care of yourself, Dean.”

“You too, Sam.”

*             *             *

Benny had assigned two team members to dig through the Iowa and Tennessee victims’ files, pour over their internet histories and make sorted lists of all their interactions, while he logged into Dean’s SpankBank profile and started his own notes.  His gut was screaming at him that this was the way in—that somewhere here was a person that all three of them had talked to—either the killer himself or someone else that could lead him to the killer, and he was determined to figure out the connection. 

He had pictures of all three victims’ injuries in front of him and had spent hours memorizing the minute similarities and differences between them.  There were plenty of parallels.  All three victims had been burned, though the mechanism had escalated from hot wax to cigarettes to cigars.  All three had been badly beaten, and the severity had escalated from victim to victim as well.  All three had been cut, though Dean had been the only one on whom the suspect had carved words.  _Was this just part of his escalation and growth?  Or had he particularly wanted to mark or shame Dean?_   And the killer had taken apparent sexual pleasure in all three attacks, marking each victim repeatedly with his semen.

But there were plenty of variations, too.  The male beta, Adam, had been the first victim.  _That we’ve found_ , Benny’s mind bitterly supplied.  He shook it off.  Adam was beaten and burned, starved and dehydrated, and finally strangled.  The suspect’s semen was found on his body and at the scene, but he had not been sodomized.  _Why not?  Did something change after that?  Did the bastard just get bolder?  Or had he gotten angrier for some reason?  He didn’t rape them himself—he used foreign objects for that.  So was it not sexual and more about torture?  Or had he just progressed in finding what really turned him on?_ Adam also showed no signs of having been tied down, gagged or restrained.  From the coroner’s report, the drugs in his system when he was found, and this lack of restraints made it appear he had been drugged into immobility for the entirety of his attack.  _But our friend must not have liked that, did he?  He wanted them to be awake, so he barely drugged the omega Meg at all.  She was small and she would have been easy for him to subdue.  Not like Dean, Dean was a fighter, so he had to keep him drugged, but he made sure not to knock him out completely._ Dean’s descriptions of his attack made it clear the man had enjoyed talking to and taunting Dean.  _Fuck!_   Benny’s mind was screaming.  None of this was helping.  He had to figure out how this prick picked them.  _What did he cue in on?  What made these victims worth traveling from state to state for?  Or were they just victims of convenience that he’d happened upon because he’d been in their location for some other purpose?_  

Benny turned back to his computer.  It looked like Dean used SpankBank primarily to find hookups.  He had very little history related to watching the huge library of videos on the site, or reading any of the variety of fiction.  His profile was limited, not providing any location details and the only photo being a half-face shot showing just his eyes.  And his description of his interests was as direct and pointed as Benny would have expected.  “No interest in D/s, humiliation, or long term relationships.  Into painplay in all forms.”  And, not surprisingly, a male omega with gorgeous eyes looking for someone to hurt him got a LOT of messages.  Benny was tired of sifting through them already, and he’d only been doing it for a couple hours.  Dean had years of records in here of people interested in meeting ( _and hurting!_ ) him, the vast majority of them male alphas.  And the vast majority of whom Dean politely rejected after a brief interaction.  He never gave out his address or phone number and the meetings he’d agreed to in his message history had all been in public places.   _Had a simple refusal to meet been enough to set this guy off to such a brutal attack?  But Dean hadn’t recognized the killer, so he couldn’t be anyone Dean actually met up with._   Benny’s mind was swirling with how best to index all these names and what to focus on.  He looked at his watch, and wondered how much longer it would take Walker to get him the database from the tech guy they’d enlisted to compile all the interactions for all three victims together.  There couldn’t be very many people that all three of the victims had talked to.  And he was praying that one of them was gonna be his man. 

*             *             *

“I want to get some things from my house,” Dean said, as they were putting the breakfast dishes away.

Cas was digging in the pots and pans cabinet and didn’t look up.  “Sure, just let me know what you want and I can walk over right now and get it.”

“Um…well, I kind of want to go.”

The pot rattling stopped for a moment, then there was a brief clatter as Cas finished, and he shut the door and stood to lean against the counter facing Dean.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.  I want to see my house, Cas.”  Dean had stopped wiping off the bar and stood on the other side of it now, staring down at his hands.  “It’s becoming this…thing.  This sort of line to cross.  And I feel like the longer I wait the bigger and bigger it’ll get until it’s not a line, it’s a wall that’s too high to get over.”  He looked up at Castiel.  He abruptly spurted out a half-laugh and said, “God, that sounds melodramatic, doesn’t it?”

“No.  It makes perfect sense actually.  Would you like me to go with you?”

Dean nodded, then said quietly, “Yeah.”  He appeared to want to say something else but then just repeated, “Yeah.  Thanks.”

 

As Castiel unlocked the door, Dean leaned on his crutches and wondered if this was a bad idea.  Cas swung the door open and stood aside for Dean to enter.

Everything looked the same…normal.  It had only been 10 days, but his house already had that sort of museum-feel that a place left untouched for a while has.  As if all that lived here now were ghosts.  He headed toward the kitchen, and everything there looked the same, too.  Maybe a few things out of place a little?  And his small rugs were missing.  But the floors and counters were sparkly and shiny and the place smelled like pine and lemon.  _Jesus, Cas must have worn himself to the bone to get it this nice even before there was any blood and…whatever._   Dean flinched at the thought of what this place must have looked like before Cas had cleaned.  It hadn’t even occurred to him before when Cas had talked about being in house.  _Holy shit.  How am I ever gonna repay Castiel for everything he’s done—is still doing?_    

There was a small pile of broken items sitting on Dean’s counter and Dean walked up and started sifting through them.  These must have been things Cas hadn’t been sure he should throw away.  There was a picture of him and Sam that had been removed from the frame, which Dean assumed was broken.  It was one of his favorites, taken right after Sam had presented as an alpha.  They were wrestling and Sam was pinning Dean down and grinning at the camera.  It didn’t matter that Dean had let Sam have the power, the pride shining in Sam’s eyes was one of the most beautiful things Dean had ever seen.  He set the picture aside, and sifted through some broken pieces of a vase that hadn’t been anything special to pick out a ceramic bird whose head was now separated from its body.  Charlie had given it to him when he moved away to saying she was proud he was flying the nest and exploring his own freedom.  He’d thought it was cheesy at the time, but looking at it he knew he would be gluing it back together.  He turned and handed the pieces to Castiel, who took them without a word and put them carefully in a pocket of the bag he was carrying.

 _Of course I didn’t think about it but Cas has a bag with him.  I wonder how long he’ll be taking care of me?_   As Dean was thinking this, Dean had started moving away from the kitchen and now he found himself standing in his dining room.  The room was more stagnant in hear as there was only one window and the doorways weren’t set up well for air circulation.  Dean felt a little closed in and there was something stale and thick in the air.  It smelled a little like heartbreak or suffering alpha, but it was faint and Dean couldn’t get a good handle on it.  _And that doesn’t make any sense since it certainly wasn’t that freak alpha (if that’s what he was) who had been the one suffering._   Dean saw a flash of the ceiling in here from his point of view strapped to the table and that sick prick looking down at him and smiling.  He staggered back a step, but Cas caught him with one hand on the small of his back and one on his elbow helping him keep his crutch in place.  He shook the vision off and moved on to the stairs.  There was nothing to see here.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Are you sure you wish to do this?  Your bedroom…it…um….  I wasn’t able to clean that room completely, so I believe you will be wanting to have it repainted and recarpeted.  Perhaps we should delay your visit until that work is done.”

Dean got it.  He understood Cas’s concern.  But the trauma wasn’t in the blood or semen stains.  Even with all new furniture, carpet, paint, light fixtures, window treatments, whatever, the memory would still be in there.  Nothing was going to take that away.  “I need to do this, Cas.  The longer I wait, the harder it’s gonna be.”  He looked into Cas’s eyes and tried to will him to understand.

“Alright, Dean.”

When Dean got to the doorway, he stood there for a minute, staring in.  It was so strange, there were pink and rust streaks on the carpet and walls in here, though they were light and seemed faded, like a memory that has gone out of focus.  Somehow they were less disturbing than the things that were bright and clean.  His dresser, that had been strewn with The Man’s instruments of torture was clean and now contained only his usual couple of cologne bottles and pile of pocket change.  His bed was neatly made for the first time in at least six months, as if awaiting a guest to come sleep in it rather than just Dean.  Everything was so incongruous, it didn’t make any sense.  How could this clean, quiet place have been where his whole life had changed—where he had been forever branded with his own truth?  _Worthless.  Whore.  Trash._   He would never be able to be intimate with anyone again.  How could he ever even take his shirt off in front of anyone again?  _He took that scalpel and he carved away my whole future._ Shame and guilt overwhelmed him and he felt dizzy.  He dropped onto the bed and put his head in his hands, trying to breathe deeply, get control.  But there was nowhere to hid now—the truth was pounding inside his own head, swirling around and through him, his stomach turned from the force of it.  _I’m disgusting, sick, this is what I deserve.  I’m a monster.  I’m vile.  Putrid.  All that happened to me is the same foul, repulsive crap that I am._  

Then he was sobbing violently, his body shaking, curled up on his bed as Castiel held him. 


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The visit to Dean's house continued; Dean shares something with Cas. This chapter is longer than my usual (and I'm afraid that may mean the next Chapter is a little slower coming out), but I really didn't want to break in between these scenes. WARNING FOR: No detailed torture or abuse scenes, but there are references. Also a scene touching lightly on painplay.

Castiel waited in the doorway as Dean entered his bedroom.  He wanted to give him space for whatever he needed to do, or experience.  He watched Dean step up to his dresser and run his hand lightly across the surface.  After a minute he turned around to face the bed and stalled, just looking at the empty surface of his comforter.  Cas had washed everything and after he and Dean had made up from their argument, Cas had taken that as license to come back and finish his work, so he had returned before Dean’s release from the hospital to return all the linens and upholstery he’d cleaned.  He’d made Dean’s bed carefully, all the corners folded and tucked neatly and the comforter hanging softly down over the top.  Cas suspected Dean wasn’t seeing any of that, though, as he could smell Dean’s scent becoming distressed.  As usual, fear was there but was overwhelmed by the much stronger rotten compost and sulfur odors of shame, guilt and disgust.  Where Cas assumed most victims of an attack like Dean’s would be terrified of their attacker and perhaps other alphas, or people, in general, Dean had somehow taken his assault and turned it on himself.  He seemed not so much horrified by the man who had hurt him as by himself.  Cas couldn’t understand it, but he felt it, and the evidence was all around him, as the sick miasma of Dean’s shame swelled and grew to fill the room.  Whether or not it made sense, Dean felt a deep and sickening disgust with himself.  Castiel’s stomach turned as the odor grew around him and he longed to find a way for Dean to see himself through Cas’s eyes.

As he watched, Dean dropped onto the bed, head in his hands and seemed to be trying to will himself to keep his emotions together.  Cas stepped forward cautiously, afraid of interfering or worse, given the setting, triggering a flashback of Dean’s attack.  When he was next to Dean, he whispered his name quietly.  Dean seemed lost in a daze and Cas gently reached out to pet Dean’s hair, and started to try to concentrate on making his own scent as soothing as he could.  He cautiously sat on the bed next to Dean, and let his hand drop until his arm was wrapped around Dean’s shoulders.  He gently crooned reassurances, to Dean, though they made little sense.  “Shhhh, Dean, it’s alright, I’m here.  You’re safe.  You’re so strong, doing so good.”  Then suddenly Dean turned and crushed his body into Cas’s, flinging both arms around him and curling up tight, his body wracked with violent sobs.

“Oh, Dean!  I’m here, Dean.  We’re safe now.  You’re so strong and so brave and you’re going to be fine.  I know you will.”  He concentrated on his feelings for Dean, trying to send out his own scent to comfort Dean, full of _proud alpha, caring, home, comfort, safe, proud proud proud_.  “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Dean.  That man had no right to hurt you, you didn’t ask for that, you didn’t want that.”  Why had Dean been so worried about that idea the other night?  How could he make Dean understand that he could not be to blame for what happened to him?  “You are so good, and you are doing so amazingly well at working past all of this.  I’ve never seen anyone as courageous as you, and still so warm and loyal and generous to others.”  He squeezed Dean more tightly, and petted his head as he spoke.  “You don’t even realize how for the past two days _you’ve_ been taking care of _me_ —cooking meals and baking pies and trying to make _me_ smile.  You are so good, Dean, you are such a good man.”

Dean had stopped weeping now, and he had wrapped his arms around Cas and was squeezing tightly himself.  The rotten cabbage scent was still present, but it was tempered with a bit of spring rain and even a touch of sandalwood.  Cas would usually have thought the sandalwood scent meant arousal, but in Dean’s current state he knew that was extremely unlikely.  Whatever Dean was feeling, at least it was more positive.  He stroked Dean’s back gently, and continued to croon praise and admiration to him.  “And you’ve done so well with your doctors—handling the physical therapy pain and doing your exercises this morning.  And maybe the bravest of all, keeping your promise to Dr. Mills and meeting with a counselor.  That must have been so difficult and you did it without complaint before or after.”  Dean was undoubtedly doing better now.  His breath was a bit irregular and fast, but he definitely smelled of good things—spring rain, sandalwood, vanilla.  “You are even doing so good right now, Dean.  So brave to come here and want to face that event—that man.  So good letting me share this with you and help you—that takes openness and bravery, Dean.  So good, Dean.”

 _Fuck!_   He had just felt…  He was sure…  Was that?  Shit, that was definitely Dean’s hard cock that brushed up against his thigh!  Cas felt his own cock twitch as he was instantly aroused.  _Oh shit, oh god, I can’t upset him, this is not the fucking time! he doesn’t want me that way, but I can’t reject him now, fuck, he smells so good!  What do I do???_ He was still petting Dean gently and Dean was still breathing hard, practically in his lap, though now he knew the sandalwood scent had not been a mistake.  “You’re so brave and so good, Dean.  I promise you, you’re doing so good, you’re such a good boy.”  Fuck, where had that come from?!  Dean…  whimpered?  It’s the praise!  Oh, Dean!  I will not take advantage of your need.  I will not will not oh god, what do I do?!  He was still murmuring phrases, having reset to the generic “safe, going to be okay” mode in the wake of his distraction.  And he noticed Dean seemed to be breathing more evenly, so Cas continued that litany, focusing hard on tamping down his own arousal and making his scent clear of any sexual desire.  He thought about how much Dean deserved to feel safe and secure right now, and everything he had been through, and he held and rocked Dean, until Dean finally smelled only of freshly mown grass, vanilla, and citrus. 

When Dean finally looked up at him, his eyes were red rimmed and tired looking.  He smiled weakly at Cas.  “I’m sorry.”

“Dean, you have nothing to feel sorry for.  This is why I was here with you, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”  Cas thought Dean was going to argue with him, but instead Dean pulled his arms free and sat up straight, rolling his shoulders a bit.  After a minute, Dean said, “So, let’s get on with this and get my clothes and crap and head back ho—to your place.”

Cas’s heart flipped and he held his breath a moment to keep from making an embarrassing noise of pleasure at Dean’s verbal slip.  “Sounds good.”  He stood and gathered Dean’s crutches from the floor, handing them over, then picked up his duffel bag for Dean’s things.

*             *             *

That evening, Cas helped Dean with his physical therapy.  He held Dean’s legs and arms one at a time and provided resistance for Dean to push and work against.  They went about it smoothly, with Dean talking about his call with Sam that morning.  When Cas pressed, Dean admitted he hadn’t been clear with Sam about the severity of his attack, and Cas felt strangely proud that Dean was honest with him about that.  He didn’t want to violate Dean’s trust, so he pushed back a little, trying to give Dean some food for thought, but then let the conversation shift as Dean began to wax on proudly about his smart little brother, the lawyer who was saving the world.

 

“Sam sounds amazing.  I hope I get to meet him one day.”

Dean huffed a rough laugh, mixed in with a grunt as he pushed his arm back against Cas’s hand.   “He said if I’m still staying here the next time we talk he wants to talk to you.”

Cas tilted his head in thought.  “Yes, it must be strange for him, as your alpha, to hear you’re living with a strange alpha he’s never even met.”

Dean snorted.  “He’s _not_ my alpha.  He’s my much younger and not-always-as-much-smarter-as-he-thinks-he-is brother.”  He raised his arm again, breathing deep with the effort.  Then again.  “But yeah, you’re probably right, Cas.  It probably is weird for him.”

“You never talk about your parents.”

Dean clearly heard the question in Cas’s statement.  “Mom died when I was four, so I barely remember her and Sammy never knew her at all.  Dad, he…he died years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said in acknowledgment, restraining his desire to pry into every bit of Dean’s background and history—to piece together what made Dean this simultaneously joyous and deeply sad person.  Dean was working the other arm now.

“Thanks.  Me, too.  Sometimes.  But mostly it’s a relief.”

“You didn’t get along?”

“Nah, it isn’t that exactly.  We got along mostly, at least up until I presented.  Then it was hit or miss at first.  He’d always been proud of what I could do—how well I picked up on the car and house repairs, how I took care of Sam, how good I was at hunting.  I know he was expecting me to be an alpha, and was disappointed, but he never said that.  It only came out when he was drunk—both the good and the bad.  Sometimes he would go on and on about what a strong, tall, tough man I was turning into, nothing like those weak, sissy omegas.  I didn’t know there was anything wrong with the way he was talking about omegas, I was just excited he was proud of me.”

“Fifteen,” Cas said, counting off Dean’s last rep.

“Oh thank God,” Dean said, dropping back onto the carpet and closing his eyes.

Cas leaned back against the couch and tipped his head back onto the seat.  He listened to the sound of Dean’s breathing as he relaxed from his efforts.  He smelled lightly of ammonia, already easing into sea breezes.  And there was freshly ground coffee and Dean’s unique engine-grease-cinnamon-jasmine.  Cas drifted for a few minutes, until Dean surprised him by speaking again.

“I was confused about it all, myself, and I was twelve years old.  You know how it is at that age, man—everything turned me on.  It was so embarrassing.  But usually when my Dad was around, I was so nervous and wanted so bad to make him proud that it wasn’t a problem.  Until this one day, when we were out hunting, Dad let me use his rifle.  It was so big, but I was so fucking _determined_.  We waited for ages and finally a young buck came in sight of our blind.  I remember it like it was this morning.  I was moving so slow and quiet, making sure not to spook him, raising the rifle, removing the safety, taking aim…  I felt like I was in a dream and my whole body was just moving like fluid, so smooth and steady, like I had perfect control as long as I wanted it.”

Cas dropped down to lay on the carpet next to Dean.  

“I got him in my sights, took a breath and pulled the trigger.  I knew the kickback from Dad’s rifle was gonna be bad, so I was ready, and it hurt, but I didn’t pull the shot.  And it was a fucking great shot.  The buck startled and ran, but he only got probably thirty steps before he dropped.  One shot.  God, it was beautiful.”

Cas was picturing a young Dean, wide green eyes shining with excitement, and looking up at his dad.

“Dad jumped up and ran after the deer before I could even move.  When I caught up, he was standing over the deer crowing with excitement.  He slapped me on the back and rubbed my head saying what a great buck it was.  He grabbed my shoulders and said, ‘I’m proud of you, Dean.’  I had never felt so good in my entire life.  Then he pulled me close.  He was squeezing me so hard, holding me to him and he said, ‘You’re my good boy’.”

Dean turned his head to look at Cas.  His eyes were so green.  Dean turned back to the ceiling and continued, “For maybe five or ten seconds everything was perfect.  Then I think we both realized it at the same time.  I felt wetness in my pants and Dad smelled it.  His son, his pride and joy, had just gotten slick because of a little praise and a pet from his daddy.”  Dean’s voice sounded hard and bitter now.  But his scent didn’t have the sulfur and compost of shame and disgust that he did when he was thinking about his attack.  Instead there was something burnt weaving in, something that seemed to Castiel like anger or indignation.  “Dad shoved me away and just stared at me.  I was frozen—sure he was gonna hit me.  He didn’t.  It was like he couldn’t move either for a minute.  He stared at me and his face was all twisted up and hard.  He just whispered ‘You better go back to camp and clean up.’  And then he just bent down and pulled out his rope to start working on the deer.  He barely talked to me after that, and he sure as fuck never touched me again.”

Cas rolled onto his side, and reached out a hand to rest it on Dean’s shoulder.  Dean turned his head and looked into Cas’s eyes.

“I guess I was kind of relieved when he died.  He and Sammy never really got along and I know some of it was because of how Dad treated me.”

Cas nodded.  Dean turned his head back to the ceiling and his arm reached over, underneath Cas’s arm, to take hold of Cas’s other hand and twine their fingers together.  Cas relaxed into the carpet, enjoying the cinnamon and jasmine of Dean, and knowing that even without focusing on it, he was enveloping Dean in his own scent that said safety, affection and proud alpha.  His eyes drifted over Dean’s face, his strong jaw, getting a bit scruffy again, the line of his neck down to where the smooth skin disappeared under his t-shirt.  It was a slightly tight t-shirt and Dan no longer needed the large swatch of bandages across his entire abdomen apparently, as his shirt hugged the ridges of his chest and stomach and Cas could see where the hem was riding up above his sweatpants, revealing the sharp pink lines of the cuts that were still healing there.  They were distracting—there were so many lines there—he’d had no idea there were this many cuts, and he could just see the edges of the lines—all sharp, straight, distinct cuts, like hash marks or tally marks or the edges of block letters.  Without thought, he let his hand drift down and reached out with a finger to gently touch the edge of one of the cuts.  He imagined touching his lips to each one, spot by spot, along the length of every cut.  As if he could quicken the healing process by letting all of his affection and admiration for Dean flow from his lips into those pink and red lines.

Suddenly Dean was a mass of motion and turbulence.  He pulled his hand from Cas’s and tugged the hem of his shirt down hard, shoving Cas’s other hand out of the way.  At the same time he was sitting up and starting to tumble over onto his knees.  As Cas jerked up in response, Dean was already reaching for his crutches, and starting to get to his feet.  Cas jumped up and was reaching out to Dean with one hand and struggling for words.

“Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Up on his crutches now, Dean seemed slightly more at ease.  “No, Cas,” he interrupted.  “You didn’t…  It’s fine.  I’m just tired from the exercises.  I think I’m gonna hit the hay early.”

Cas nodded, feeling helpless and a little lost.  “Of course, Dean.”

*             *             *

Dean lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Castiel.  Cas, who was obviously attracted to him and apparently had no idea how gorgeous he was himself.  Dean had never paid much attention to his neighbor, other than keeping up pleasantries, after realizing how much better, how much _more_ , Cas was than Dean himself.  So smart, so educated, so put together.  A fucking published writer!  The guy got fan mail.  Dean had carried it over when the postwoman had left it in his mailbox accidentally.  He remembered thinking how weird it was that people sent real letters anymore, and wondering how much email and social media that meant Dean must get if he was also getting these letters.  And now he knew how kind and generous and tender Cas could be.  And funny, in this wry non-showy way.  Non-showy—the way Cas did everything.  Just _there_ being steady and supportive.  Cas was every fantasy boyfriend Dean had ever had, with just one little tiny exception.  One little exception that was massively important.  Cas would never want to hurt Dean, would never understand why Dean would enjoy that.  Not that Dean really understood it himself.  But Dean knew that Cas would be disgusted if he understood what really turned Dean on.  He was just so fucking good.  Which was precisely why he was so far out of Dean’s reach.  If Cas really knew him, really understood who Dean was, he wouldn’t be feeling the way he did for Dean.

And this Cas, this perfectly good and sweet Cas...  Dean knew that even if he could have him, he wouldn’t be happy for long.  He needed something…more…something hard…something…  Fuck!  He hated being so fucking cliche, but he still thought of it as an alpha thing.  Cas was an alpha—there was no denying it if you were around that scent for more than a few minutes.  But Dean was harder than Cas—tougher than Cas.  And maybe it was because Dean was a sexist bigot, maybe it was just because he was an omega and there was some truth to all that shit, maybe it was just because Dean was sick and damaged.  But in the end, he wanted—needed—someone strong and hard.  He thought it was funny that Benny and Sam both thought Dean was safer living with Cas.  Yah, Cas was no danger to him, but he wasn’t going to take on that fucking sick killer.  For Christ’s sake, if that prick decided to come after him again, Dean had no doubt that he’d be more likely to protect them both than Cas would.  Yeah, Cas was physically strong—Dean had been suitably impressed when Cas had swept him up into his arms more than once with no problem and carried him all the way up the stairs like it was nothing.  But alpha strength didn’t necessarily mean alpha hardness.

It was a fucking shame, too.  Because Castiel was hot.  Dean thought about how Cas’s blue eyes would look when he was hard and needy.  His pupils big and darkening that blue from their regular cerulean to a deep azure.  Dean’s cock hardened as he imagined Cas’s face, his mouth open and panting, a bit slack with desire.  His tongue running across his soft, always-chapped lips, leaving a glistening trail for Dean to follow.  He reached down and pushed his sweats down enough to free his dick, which was rock hard already.  In the hospital and since, Dean hadn’t yet gotten back into his regular routine of masturbation, and he could feel the need now, extra strong and adding to the pull of his fantasy.  What the fuck—it wasn’t going to hurt him or Cas. 

He reached over to his nightstand, and pulled out the bottle of lube—glad he’d had the foresight to put it in his pocket when they’d visited his house.  He slicked himself up and started slow strokes, thinking about what he wished Cas could do to him.  He closed his eyes and pictured Cas’s face above his, his eyes hungry with want.  He imagined Cas taking both their cocks into his hand, stroking them together, and he squeezed himself harder and moaned a little as he thought about the hot, soft slip of Cas’s hard prick sliding against his, imagining he could feel his hardness throb with need, just as Dean’s was now.  Dean was leaking precum now, and his hand slid easily up and down, as he imagined what Cas’s soft, uncalloused hand would feel like.  Cas’s skin was soft, but Dean knew his hands were large and his fingers were strong as shit.  He could definitely hold them both and he could easily bring Dean to the brink and then clamp down hard to stave it off and bring him back from that edge. 

Dean could almost smell Cas’s peppermint-licorice-firewood scent, and he wondered what Cas’s skin would taste like.  Dean was stroking himself faster now, as his mind-Cas reached up his free hand and fisted it into Dean’s hair.  Cas suddenly pulled hard on Dean’s hair, yanking his head back and sending a shot of pain down Dean’s spine and straight into his cock.  Dean moaned and whispered, “Fuck, yeah, Cas.”  His hand was moving faster now and he squeezed hard, looking forward to that feeling, to flying over that precipice.  He could almost feel Cas’s hand in place of his own and his other hand still holding a death-grip in his hair, tugging it so tightly that it was a constant drag of pain.  God, Cas’s fingers would feel so good, his cock against Dean’s would be so hot and hard and smooth.  He could imagine Cas bending down over him to whisper in his ear, his breath so hot with that low, rumbly, velvety voice speaking just for him, “Come for me, Dean, be my good boy.”  Dean twisted, tensed and cried out as he came, spilling over his hand—Cas’s name the only coherent noise he made.

*             *             *

Castiel leaned against the wall next to Dean’s bedroom door.  He was worried how Dean would react if he knew, but after Dean’s nightmare two nights before, he had struggled to fall asleep in his own bed.  Who knew how long Dean had been suffering in his dreams before the noises he made had been enough to wake Castiel?  Dean had either fallen out of bed or moved on his own out of bed and squeezed into the corner of his room without Cas ever hearing a thing.  With his toes and wrist and clavicle and ribs all still healing, he knew how much damage he could do to himself in his sleep, just be trying to escape the phantom of that sick killer.  Cas had laid in bed the night before for an hour before padding down to Dean’s door to try to listen through the wood.  He couldn’t hear Dean breathing, but he could smell Dean’s scent, which seemed regular enough, perhaps tinged with a bit of pain, but otherwise just jasmine-automotive mix.  Cas had eventually gone back to his room to gather a blanket and his phone, which he used as an alarm, and returned to settle down next to Dean’s door.  He had eventually fallen asleep, but had woken before Dean and had felt somehow comforted by having been closer to the omega.

So, he was here for the second night in a row, trying not to worry too much about how he had almost touched Dean’s scars in a way that clearly made Dean feel violated.  Dean had remained calm and had not seemed angry with him, exactly.  It was so frustrating after Dean had just been so open with him.  Castiel knew it was a precious gift that Dean had given him—the story about his father.  He knew it was no coincidence that this story had followed after the experience they had had together at Dean’s house.  Dean had given him a piece of the puzzle—like a glimpse through a window into the structure that was Dean.  He hoped Dean knew that he understood what a gift that was and would treasure and keep it safe.

Cas stretched his arms out and slid down to lay in front of Dean’s door.  He pressed a hand against the wood, and listened.  He still couldn’t hear Dean’s breathing, but he could smell him—cinnamon, engine grease, and a touch of chocolate.  Cas found himself wondering about Dean’s past relationships.  He had seen quite a few men and women around Dean’s house, gotten the impression that many of them were sexual encounters—sometimes seeing them kiss, or leave in the morning as Cas was getting his newspaper.  But he could only remember perhaps two people who had come around repeatedly enough for Castiel to become accustomed to their vehicles.  He couldn’t be sure if they were sexual relationships or platonic friends.  A waft of sandalwood came under Dean’s door to Cas and he inhaled deeply.  A part of his mind idly thought that it was probably a healthy sign that Dean was feeling aroused in the safe, comfortable environment of his bedroom. 

He wondered whether Dean had ever had a partner he had trusted enough to share what he had told Cas that evening, and really had revealed that day at his house.  A vision flashed through his mind of Dean bent over a small, blond woman, thrusting slowly into her as she crooned, “Yes, that’s my good boy, Dean.”  As quick as that flash had come it was gone and was replaced by a wave of nausea.  It was wrong—anyone else speaking to Dean that way.  To _his_ omega.  Fuck fuck fuck!  Cas couldn’t think this way.  He willed the nausea down and took several deep breaths.  Mmmm…. cinnamon…. chocolate…. sandalwood….  “Fuck yeah, Cas.”

What?!  Cas held his breath.  Had he really heard that?  Had Dean really just moaned his name?  While he was clearly either having a sexual dream or masturbating or…  _Oh shit._   He silently exhaled and tried to start breathing calmly again.  But the air at Dean’s door was a flood of sandalwood and chocolate and jasmine and cinnamon.  He was surrounded by Dean and Dean’s arousal—Dean wanting and needing and desiring.  And not just desiring anything—desiring Cas!  Cas’s cock twitched and was starting to swell in interest.  He tried to stay calm, wondering if Dean was awake and if so, whether he could get up and away from Dean’s door without him hearing.  Dean’s sandalwood and cinnamon were almost overwhelming now and so delicious, Cas could imagine licking Dean’s skin and tasting this scent made manifest.  It was tantalizing and Cas’s mind was a swirl of want and excitement and desire.  Then Dean moaned quietly and he was muttering Cas’s name, “Cas Cas CasCasCas…”  It drifted off and there was silence. 

Cas’s cock was throbbing in his pajama pants now, a wet spot staining the front where he was leaking.  He waited a minute then gathered his courage to get up as quietly as he could and flee back to his own bedroom.  He shut the door and slid to the floor on the other side, shoving his hand inside and grabbing himself roughly.  He stripped his cock frantically, coming in hard spurts over his stomach and hand in just a few strokes


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes to the police station and someone stops by the house to see Dean. No special warnings this chapter--there are brief references to Dean's attack, but nothing too specific, so hopefully not a trigger for anyone if you're reading this fic this far along.

The next morning, Cas felt an odd tingling in his body—a sort of electric charge running through him.  He looked at Dean moving about the kitchen, toasting a bagel and making his coffee and a comforting warmth swelled up from his belly through his chest and shoulders.  Cas suddenly felt stronger and more alive.  Anything was possible now if Dean could be attracted to him.  Where he had seen an inevitable future of Dean’s move back home and return to his life, with Castiel slowly fading out of it like a memory, he now saw…  Well, it wasn’t that he saw a perfect, fairy tale future, exactly.  He saw nothing—it was fuzzy, something there in the future, but he had no idea what.  And the possibilities that could be imagined if he so chose were utterly tantalizing.  Joy was swelling in his heart and he knew it must be spilling out in the form of his scent as Dean had given him a variety of strange looks that morning.

Cas watched as Dean made a phone call, preening a bit internally that Dean had not left the room to do so in private, apparently comfortable allowing Cas to observe other pieces of his life.  He didn’t reach his surrogate father, as Cas had come to think of Bobby from Dean’s descriptions, leaving a brief message that definitely didn’t share the severity of his injuries or attack, but was warm and very Dean, referring to Sam as ‘sasquatch’ and Bobby as a ‘dirty old fart’.

After breakfast they headed down to the police station, where Benny had asked Dean to come meet with a sketch artist and answer some additional questions that had arisen in his investigation.  Cas waited in the lobby, and though the meeting took quite a while, Dean did not look too exhausted or disturbed by the interview when he emerged.  Benny walked him out and shook Cas’s hand as they waited for the elevator.  The doors opened to a large dirty-looking alpha towering over a shaking young woman with his fist raised to strike.  He looked up at the trio of men, dropped his arm to his side with a grunt and pushed out of the elevator.  As he passed, his foot kicked into one of Dean’s crutches, shoving it out from under him, causing Dean to stumble to the ground.  Cas and Benny both immediately leaned down to Dean, who waved them off.  Benny snagged Dean’s crutch and handed it back to him, not noticing that Castiel had rushed after the offending alpha.  Before Benny could react, Cas had slammed the larger alpha against the wall, holding him there with one hand around his neck.

“You will apologize to these two omegas right now!” Cas ordered, his voice low and angry.

The alpha was using both hands to try to dislodge Cas’s hand from his throat, and hatred was clear on his face.  He spit in Cas’s face and muttered, “Fat fucking chance.  That bitch is my property, and your faggot omega can suck my cock if he wants anything out of me.”

Cas growled, and raised his other arm to press both hands around the man’s neck.  He lifted the alpha off the ground, sliding him up the wall several inches and starting to squeeze quite hard judging by the red color the man’s neck was turning.  “Human beings are not property, and you will apologize for your disrespect to both of these omegas.”  His voice was loud and clear, though not yelling, and the scent of his rage was flooding the hallway.

Benny was on his feet now and cautiously approaching Cas.  He didn’t want to have to arrest the man, but he knew he shouldn’t be allowing this scene to continue.  Sometimes his job fucking sucked.  He stopped about two paces from Cas and off to his side where he could clearly be seen approaching.  “Castiel…” he started.

The alpha Cas had pinned was now making audible choking sounds and clutching at Cas’s hands, kicking his legs against the wall.  _Shit_!  Benny spoke more firmly, “Mr. Novak.  I have to ask you to—”

Just then, the prick alpha managed to wring out the words, “fine…yah…jus’ stop…”

Cas immediately pulled both hands back and they all watched the alpha drop to the ground on his knees, reaching for his throat and gasping.  Cas turned to Benny with a challenging look on his face.  Benny shrugged and took a step back, almost whispering to Castiel, “Maybe try to avoid bloodshed.”  Cas considered Benny, nodded to him, and turned back to the other alpha.  After allowing the man a dozen or so breaths, Cas grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him roughly to his feet, dragging him back toward the elevator where Dean was standing next to the shocked-looking female omega.  Cas didn’t say anything, but sort of shook the man roughly by his collar in expectation.

“I…apologize,” the man muttered to the floor. 

Cas twisted his fist in the man’s collar, pulling the shirt up hard against the man’s neck.  “Look at them and explain why you were wrong.”  Dean knew that the force of Cas’s scent of displeasure and anger must be sickening to the other alpha.

The man physically shuddered.  He raised his eyes to the young woman.  “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”  His eyes shifted over to Dean, and even more quietly he said, “Or shoved you.”  He paused and when Castiel didn’t release him, he glared at the ground and whispered, “You deserve respect.”

Cas let go and watched as the man grasped his neck for a moment then tugged at his shirt to straighten it.  He reached out a hand for the young woman to take and she timidly came forward to grasp his hand.  The man finally lifted his head and without meeting the eyes of any of the men, turned to head down the hallway.  As he did, Castiel grasped his arm and stated, “Never again.  The police will be watching you.”  The alpha paused and Dean thought he saw him nod his head slightly before Cas released him and the pair walked away.

When they were out of hearing, Benny audibly released a loud breath and said, “Fuck, Novak.  Now I’m gonna have to get someone to check that prick out and we’re probably gonna have to remove that omega from his care for her own safety.”  His voice was dripping with irritation that sounded a little less than genuine.

Castiel turned to Benny and said, “I do apologize, Detective.  I should not have raised my hand to that man, especially in your station.  I am not certain I can offer a genuine apology, however, for the effort that will be involved in keeping that young woman safe.”

Benny snorted a laugh and shook his head.  He turned to Dean and said, “Would you get him out of here before he adds anything else to my workload?”  Dean smiled back and Benny turned and headed down the hallway after the other pair.

Castiel turned to Dean, and the full force of what he had just done hit him.  He seemed to shrink a bit as he approached Dean, and he quietly said, “I’m sorry, Dean.  I should not have acted violently in your presence.”  His eyes searched Dean’s.  “I hope I did not add to your stress in any way.”

Dean smirked as he said, “Uh, no, Cas, we’re all good,” and reached out to press the button to recall the elevator. 

They stopped at a diner for burgers for lunch and Cas noticed that Dean’s good mood from the morning did not seem diminished by any of the morning’s events at the police station.  Dean’s green eyes were shining as he moaned in pleasure around a mouthful of burger and talked randomly about Sam, music, his car.  He noted that Dean mentioned Benny several times, a couple times in passing and once very seriously musing that Benny might actually have a chance at catching his attacker.  He knew he would have felt jealous if he weren’t riding high from overhearing Dean say his own name the night before.  _Not_ _Benny’s_.  He felt a bit petty but it was impossible to stop his inner alpha from preening with pride.  Or to stop his muscles from constantly tingling with the excitement of possibility.

After lunch, they headed home where Dean set to work on a couple of pies.  He wanted to make one for Dr. Mills and had apparently promised one to one of Benny’s colleagues at the police station.  Cas couldn’t imagine how homemade pie had come up when Dean was being questioned about his assault, but as he thought about it it seemed less and less surprising.  That was just Dean’s way—he was there to relive parts of (what Cas certainly hoped was) the most horrifying experience of his life, but he would have been going out of his way to make each person he even passingly interacted with just a little more comfortable, a little happier for at least that day.  Cas set up camp at the kitchen table.  He usually worked in his office, but with Dean puttering about the kitchen he couldn’t find it in himself to leave.

When Dean was rolling out dough and singing quietly to himself something about a tiger’s eye, the doorbell rang.  Cas opened the door to find a gray-bearded man in a baseball cap and flannel shirt.

“Hello, can I help you?”

“So you’re Castiel Novak, eh?” the man said gruffly, looking him pointedly up and down.

Cas didn't know what to say.  As he was still trying to come up with a response, the man said, “Well are we gonna stand here all day, or are you gonna let me come in and see my boy?”

Just as Cas was starting to explain that this man must have the wrong house, he simultaneously saw the man’s focus shift to somewhere behind him and heard Dean’s voice from the hallway shouting, “Bobby!”  The man, Bobby, slid smoothly past Cas, and headed down the hall, wrapping Dean in a tight hug that made Dean grunt and say, “Ow, Bobby, Jesus, careful with the goods!”  Castiel watched as Bobby loosened his grip but didn't let go, holding Dean for another full minute, and saying “Gods, boy, I’ve missed you.”

They somehow made it through the first awkward minute of Cas being introduced (“Cas has been helping me out”), beer being offered to Bobby (and accepted), and Cas offering to leave the room so they could have some privacy (“Oh no you don’t, Boy, you’ve got some questions to answer, too”) until they were all seated at the kitchen table.

“So, what are you doing here, Bobby?” Dean said, sounding just a hint prickly.

“You know what, ya idjit,” responded Bobby, taking a swig of his beer.  “Sam called me yesterday.  At first I figured he was bein’ paranoid over nothin’.   Then he told me you were staying over at a strange man’s house.  Again, probly nothin’.  Except he specifically said it didn’t sound…”  Bobby paused and looked over at Castiel.  Turning back to Dean, he continued, “…romantic, shall we say.  So I figured you had to be pretty fucking injured to move into some unmentioned neighbor’s house all of a sudden, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea to just come on down here and take a look for myself.”

Cas laughed inside his head.  Dean wasn’t going to get much by this man.  That and his obvious love for Dean had Castiel immediately in his fanclub.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.  “Well, now you’ve seen it you can see that I can actually admit I need a little help getting around right now.  I can’t drive a car and sometimes even the stairs are tough with two boots on and the crutches.  So Cas offered to let me stay here.  But I’m not on death’s door and I haven’t gone loco or anything.  For Christ’s sake, sometimes you guys act like I’m not even a fucking adult.”

Bobby leaned back in his chair and gave Dean a hard look.  “Only when you’re not being an adult, Dean.”

“Bobby…”

“Don’t fucking ‘Bobby’ me, Boy.  I’ve known you since you were in diapers, and you ain’t puttin’ the wool over my eyes, no matter what you think.  So I want the whole story from the beginning and I want to know a little more about your guardian angel here, and then we can get past this and hopefully have some pie.”

Oh yah, Castiel was definitely a Bobby disciple.

Dean, however, seemed less pleased.  He was looking down at his hands on the table and his scent was tinged with compost and vinegar.  Castiel longed to reach out and hold his hand, but wasn’t sure Dean would appreciate the touch in front of Bobby.  As he was internally debating how to help Dean, Bobby spoke up again.

“Dean, just tell me what happened.  Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.  Like always.  But you can’t shut out your family, at least not without giving us a chance to help.”

Dean was still looking down and his scent was still tinged with shame and fear.  Castiel, who had been so thrilled that one of Dean’s family members was here and confronting him and forcing him to see how much they cared, now was overwhelmed by a flood of sympathy for Dean.  He tried to imagine if he had been attacked as Dean was, trying to tell his sister or his brother about it.  Something in Cas’s chest clenched, and he found himself, without knowing he was going to, saying, “Dean, do you want me to…?”

Bobby had looked up sharply at him when he spoke and now they both were looking at Dean, who seemed frozen for a moment, but then gave a small nod.  Bobby and Castiel looked at each other and Cas could see that Bobby was now worried and distressed.  He obviously knew it was something much worse than he had anticipated.  Cas watched as Bobby leaned over the table, and reached a hand out to Dean’s, squeezing the omega’s hand for a moment and then resting them both, clasped together, on the table.  Bobby looked over at Cas.

Cas cleared his throat.  “Two weeks ago, a man entered Dean’s home, held him captive in his home for three days,...”  His voice broke.  _Get it together, Cas!  This is for Dean.  You have to make this better for him, not worse.  Cool and calm, cool and calm._   “…physically abused him, and then left.  I discovered Dean shortly after that, called an ambulance and accompanied Dean to the hospital.  He suffered numerous broken bones, minor internal injuries from which he appears to have already recovered, and a number of burns, bruises and cuts.  He was released from the hospital Saturday and has been staying here since.”  Cas took a deep breath.  He was sweating from the effort of not breaking down as he told this man who looked at Dean with all the affection of a father, what had happened to his son.  He looked at Dean, but couldn’t tell what he thought about how Cas had presented the attack.  Cas had tried to respect Dean’s wishes by avoiding reference to the sexual nature of the attack while still being as open and honest with Bobby as he could otherwise.

They all sat for a minute in silence as Bobby digested what Cas had said.  Then Bobby slid his chair closer to Dean and wrapped his arm around the omega, pulling Dean to his chest, tucking Dean’s head to his neck and rested his chin on Dean’s hair.  “Dean, ya idjit.  You were never gonna tell any of us about this, were you?”

Dean made a sort of strangled whimpery noise, and then his arms wrapped around Bobby and Cas could practically smell as his scent broke in two and the rotten cabbage and compost and vinegar all fell away and were replaced by fresh coffee (comfort), vanilla (trust) and ending rains (relief and renewal).  Cas reached up to wipe away the tear that was threatening to fall from one eye. 

They sat for a few minutes that way until Dean pulled away from Bobby and sat back a bit to look him in the eye.  “I’m sorry, Bobby.  I just…  You know why this happened to me.  It’s because of who…what I am.  And you and Sam and Ell shouldn’t have to…”

“Now you listen to me, Dean Winchester,” Bobby interjected.  He wasn’t yelling, but his voice carried a no-nonsense sort of authority that was undeniable.  “I know your father put that anti-omega bullshit in your head all your life, but I thought for sure I had drummed that out of you years ago.  John Winchester was an asshole and a fool.  If some psycho attacks you in your own home, it doesn’t matter what you did or what you are—the only person responsible for that is the son of a bitch that did it.  All you’re in charge of is how you deal with it.  Now, I’m no Dr. Phil, but I am damn sure that hiding it from your family ain’t the best way to go.”  Bobby’s voice softened a bit and he said roughly, “You’re stronger than that, Dean.”

A moment later, Bobby abruptly got up from the table, walked over to the fridge and pulled another beer out, opening it and taking a long swig.  Castiel was taken aback until he saw that the move was perfect.  That Dean was now leaning back in his chair, taking a pull from his own beer and smelling more and more at ease.  Cas looked at Bobby appraisingly and wondered if everything that seemed easy and casual about this man was instead shrewd and carefully planned.

Bobby walked back to the table and said, “So, have the cops found this douchewad?”


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Bobby talk; Dean thinks about Cas (you know what I mean) ;-) No special warnings this chapter.

Bobby walked back to the table and said, “So, have the cops found this douchewad?”  He looked back and forth between Dean and Cas.

“Not yet, sir,” Castiel said.  “Though Detective Lafitte and his team do seem to be working very hard.  We were just at the station this morning, in fact, so Dean could work with their sketch artist and answer some more questions.”

“Christ, Boy, I ain’t no sir.  Just Bobby is fine.”  He looked at Cas appraisingly.  “So what do you think of this detective then?”

“Detective Lafitte appears to be dedicated and skilled.  I believe he will solve the case.”

“Benny’s a solid guy,” Dean offered.  “He’s gonna get justice for those families.”

Bobby sputtered, “What families?  Are you saying you’re not the only one this fucker went after?”

“Um, no.  Actually, I’m the lucky one.  They think he killed two other people before me—one in Iowa and one in Tennessee.”

Bobby whistled.  His hand was clenched tight around his beer bottle.  “Balls,” he murmured.  He relaxed his fist a bit and took a long swig, then turned to Dean.  “I’m glad you’re alive, Boy.”  He stood and walked to the kitchen counter, setting his empty bottle down and turning around to lean on the counter facing Dean and Cas.  “So how long you plannin’ on stayin’ here, Dean?”

Cas and Dean looked at each other.  “Um, well, I don’t know exactly.  Cas and I haven’t really talked about it.  I guess I thought…I mean until I’m solid with the walking thing…maybe don’t have the boots and all…and I have some things to get fixed up in my house…and Benny kind of suggested…”  Dean trailed off.

“Detective Lafitte suggested that as a safety precaution Dean should stay with an alpha family member or friend while the killer is still at large,” Castiel told Bobby.

Bobby raised his eyebrows.  “That could be quite a while.  Are you sure you want to put up with his ass for that long?”

“Dean is more than welcome here as long as he likes.”  Cas was proud that he said it without his voice breaking or tearing up.  “And he more than makes up for all the hot water he uses up in the shower with the delicious pie he bakes.”

Bobby chuckled.  “Yah, Dean’s always had a thing for pie.  So, Dean, are you sure this is how you want to handle it?  I know you don’t want to go to Africa or make Sam come back from feeding the hungry or whatever, but you could always stay at Ellen’s.  No doubt she’d be enough to intimidate that shithead if he did come after you.”

Dean laughed.  “No shit.  I don’t know anybody that would take her on willingly.  But no, Bobby, my life’s already been turned upside down enough.  I may not be at home, but I’m right next door and for some reason that makes it feel nearly the same as home, you know?  Cas has a security system already, so between it and him I think I’m basically as safe as I can be anywhere.  And as soon as I get the clear from my doc I can go back to work.”

Bobby nodded and shifted his attention to Cas.  “So, Castiel Novak.  You got yourself stuck right in the middle of a big ole shit pile, didn’t ya?”

Castiel had no idea how to respond.

“I guess I should ask you what are your intentions toward my son then?”

Cas’s heart started pounding in his chest and he could feel the chill that meant the beginning of a hard sweat.  _I want to kiss his lips and explore his mouth for hours.  I want to feel every inch of his skin pressed tight against mine as I drown in his incredible scent.  I want to watch every cut and every bruise and every bone heal until he is whole and safe and happy.  I want to carry him to my bed and worship every freckle and dimple and hair on his body.  I want to watch him work on his Baby in my driveway and laugh with his brother and sing classic rock at the top of his voice and ramble on about the finer points of action movies.  I want to taste…  Stop stop stop!!!!_  

But Bobby was already laughing out loud.  “I’m just fucking with you, kid.  I don’t interfere in my boys’ love lives.  How ‘bout you take me over to Dean’s and I’ll get a look at whatever he needs restored and see if I can help with that.”  It wasn’t really a question.

Castiel looked at Dean, who shrugged and nodded.  “Certainly.”  He stood and followed Bobby toward the hallway, looking back at Dean who was still sitting at the table.  He looked tired now, but his scent was still relaxed and Cas imagined Bobby’s arrival had probably been more comfort to Dean that he ever would have realized he needed.

In Dean’s absence, any few filters Bobby had been implementing were now gone.  He almost immediately interrogated Castiel about the severity of Dean’s attack and injuries.  Bobby seemed a little surprised when Castiel declined to answer in detail about the specifics of Dean’s attack, stating that he could not breach Dean’s confidence without a clear understanding how it would assist Dean.  He did, though, speak honestly with Bobby about Dean’s injuries and his physical progress in the hospital and since.  When Bobby pressed Castiel about Dean’s emotional health, Cas was somewhat circumspect, saying only that he was sure that Dean was still struggling, but Cas had no doubt he had the strength and will to overcome what had happened to him.

In the house, Castiel showed Bobby the few missing rugs and one hole in the plaster in the kitchen, then took him upstairs to Dean’s bedroom.  Cast his eyes on the room, Bobby momentarily grabbed the doorjamb for stability, but quickly steeled himself and moved in, merely commenting out loud that the room should be painted and re-carpeted.  He inspected the bed and suggested that the mattress should be replaced.  When he stood again, Cas saw the sadness there and knew that despite his cleaning efforts Bobby could see much of what had likely happened to Dean in this room.  For a moment all he could think was how much more he should have done—to clean better, to restore the room before Bobby had to come see this, to care for Dean and his family. 

Then suddenly Bobby’s hand was on his shoulder in a strong grip, and his voice was speaking over the one in Cas’s head.  “I can see how much work you put in here cleaning this place up.  I swear it hasn’t looked and smelled this good that I’ve ever seen before.”

Cas’s heart swelled and he managed to say, “Thank you,” just barely stopping himself from adding ‘Sir.’

The two went back downstairs and Bobby spent a little time inspecting Dean’s doors and windows and mumbling about the best security system options.  When he was done, Bobby and Castiel paused in Dean’s kitchen, and Bobby said, “So have I got this right—you and Dean were just neighbors and then you spent every day and night with him at the hospital and brought him back to live with you for weeks or even longer?”

Castiel swallowed.  “Yes.”  _Sir._  

“Uh huh.  So does Dean know that you’re in love with him?”

 _No.  I hope not.  Maybe.  Probably._   “I don’t know.  We haven’t exactly…this isn’t really the time…I wouldn’t want…”

Bobby smiled a little half-smile.  “Nevermind.   Look, I don’t think I need to tell you this, but it’s hard for an old man to help himself.  Dean has always known his own mind and he’s damn stubborn.  But he’s been through something serious here and it probably isn’t the time for him to go rushing into some whirlwind romance.”

Cas knew Bobby was right, but he wanted…  Oh, he wanted…  He wanted _so much_.  He cringed a bit as Bobby spoke, feeling chastised for all that he couldn’t keep himself from dreaming about.

“Look, you boys are going to do what you’re going to do.  But if you hurt him—I don’t care if you are an alpha—I’ll kill ya.”  He slapped Cas on the back and headed for the front door.

Bobby left after dinner—and some of Dean’s peach pie.  He had extracted a promise from Dean to keep in close contact and one from Castiel to watch over “this idjit.”  In the wake of his presence, a wonderful feeling remained in the house that felt like family and affection and made Castiel feel like he was a child again and could just close his eyes, hold his arms out and twirl around his living room, and wherever he fell would be safety and comfort and love.  He knew his euphoria was really caused by his body’s reaction to Dean’s scent, which was full of warm, homey things like vanilla, freshly mown grass, coffee grounds, honeysuckle and lilac, all layered over Dean’s cinnamon-jasmine.  It was a heady mix that Cas was finding difficult to ignore and then finally decided he didn’t want to ignore.

The two relaxed on the couch together in front of some nature documentary, intermittently discussing the impressive prowess of the lioness or how long it might take a sloth to traverse their street.  Dean fell asleep only half an hour into the show, and Castiel wasn’t surprised.  He must have been exhausted after such an emotionally stressful day.  He let Dean sleep on the couch briefly, but before an hour had passed decided that the couch would likely be hard on Dean’s healing bones and sore back muscles, so extricated himself, picked Dean up and carried him up the stairs.  He tucked Dean into bed, went back downstairs for Dean’s crutches and pain medication, leaving all of them next to Dean’s bed, then headed to bed himself, feeling more content than he could remember feeling in…  perhaps ever.

*             *             *

Dean woke to the feeling of Cas’s arms slipping underneath his knees and back and lifting up to cradle him against the alpha’s chest.  His instinct was to protest—he wasn’t a child or a woman—but Cas smelled like crackling fires and peppermint and he didn’t want to pass up the few moments he had to soak it in.  He allowed Cas to tuck him in, remembering how Bobby had squinted at Cas, then raised his eyebrows after only a few minutes and after a few hours had slapped him on the back and entrusted his son to Cas’s care.  Even the prettiest girl-next-door types that he or Sam had brought home had never gotten that good a reaction from Bobby.  It was because Castiel was so frigging trustworthy.  It oozed out of every pore of his being.  When he spoke you could just tell he was being honest with you.  And he was so gentle and kind all the time—to everyone.

Well, maybe not everyone.  Dean’s mind flashed to a vision of Castiel’s hand around the throat of that alpha dick at the station that morning.  Dean had never seen anyone cross Castiel’s line before, and he’d had no idea Cas had that kind of anger and potential violence buried inside.  He could see that Cas had been fighting with himself the entire time—holding back from going even further, from slamming the guy’s head in the wall or perhaps worse.  _Damn, that was hot!_   Dean felt a familiar tingling in his groin and his cock began to swell in interest. _And how fucking strong is Cas?_   That alpha had been pretty big and Cas had lifted him off the ground like he was a doll.  Cas hadn’t even seemed to consider his odds or that there was any risk involved—he had known that alpha was no match for him.  Dean’s cock was hard and throbbing now, demanding his attention.

Dean reached to the nightstand for his lube and started jerking his cock, thinking about how the muscles and blood vessels in Cas’s forearms had bulged out against his skin as he pinned that fucker to the wall.  He wondered what it would feel like to be pinned down by those arms—to reach his own hands up to clutch at Cas’s forearms and feel them not give an inch.  He stroked his cock smoothly up and down, now and then giving it a tight squeeze right to the head.  Mmmm.  Cas’s skin would be shot underneath his fingers and Dean could pull and tug and would have no chance against that alpha power.  Dean took a deep breath and…  _Shit!  That was him.  That was the smell of…_   He was leaking slick for the first time since…  He slid his boxers down past his knees and spread his legs.  He tentatively reached his hand down between his legs and touched his middle finger lightly to the edge of his rim.  Yes, it was definitely wet and tender, but this time not in a painful way, just in the old, inviting way.  He pulled out the lube again and smeared a good amount on two fingers of his other hand, then returned his original hand to his cock, lazily pulling at it, tugging up and down and enjoying the easy relaxed slide.  He ran a finger lightly around his rim, and after a minute let the tip slip inside.  To his relief, there was no pain, maybe a slight oversensitivity, like when a shirt rubs against the remains of a mostly healed sunburn, but overall it just felt good, like the promise of something better.  _Something bigger._

An image shot into Dean’s mind of Cas’s face.  His blue eyes piercing into Dean’s, taking him apart.  He pressed his finger in a little further, gently sliding it in and out in time with his hand pulling at his dick.  Cas’s face, so calm and cool, then so suddenly flushed with heat and anger when that alpha had crossed the line.  Dean groaned as his hand swiped across the head of his cock.  His finger was moving in and out freely now and he started to press the second one in gently.  He wondered what Cas would look like when he was hard and ready—what this cool, imperturbable man looked like all flustered and panting in ecstasy.  He was going slow now, trying to take it easy even though he wanted to slam his fingers in hard and fuck himself the way he now suddenly wished that Cas would.  _Jesus, where the fuck was this coming from?  Fuck, though, Cas would be so hot, with his eyes closed, panting with pleasure._   Dean slid his fingers in and out of himself, still gently, but a little further each time, in tandem with the hand on his cock, stroking and sliding and squeezing.  It was feeling really good and he could smell his own slick filling the room.  _Would Cas like how my slick smells?  Would he like how I taste?_   Suddenly he imagined Cas’s tongue pressing into his hole in place of his fingers and his cock throbbed and a drip of precum slid down the head.  He was pulling fast at his cock now, and he slid his fingers in his hole, imagining how hot and wet Cas’s tongue would feel and how his scruff would scrape and rub at Dean’s ass.  Dean could feel Cas’s strong arms holding him down and still as Cas shoved his face into Dean’s ass, so he couldn’t move at all no matter how much Cas’s unshaven face burned and stung his sensitive skin.  Dean imagined Cas sliding his fingers in alongside his tongue in place of Dean’s fingers, slick and smooth, in and out, searching and playing.  He squeezed his cock hard, jerking fast now, imagining Cas all around him.  _Peppermint and pine trees and licorice, warm soft skin with hard thick muscle beneath, bright blue eyes and…  Oh God!_   He was coming, in jolts like lightning bolts, come flying out of his cock.  He hadn’t been prepared and he shot come all over the bedsheet, shuddering through his orgasm, biting his lip to keep from moaning loudly enough for Cas to hear.   


	21. Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny reflects on the case; Cas and Dean try to sleep. WARNINGS FOR: Physical abuse, sexual abuse.

Benny dropped his coat and bag on the couch arm and sat down on the edge of a cushion, elbows on knees, hands scrubbing through his hair.  _This case!_   Two days of chasing dead-ends, reading personal messages from goddamn sex hookup websites, and trying to piece together the lives of three people with literally nothing else in common.  Unless being human counted.  He sat up and reached for the whiskey bottle and highball glass waiting on the coffee table.  He poured himself three fingers and took a big swallow, loving the burn as it slid down his throat.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sagged back into the couch.

 _Of course_ there had been no one that all three victims had agreed, at least in correspondence on SpankBank, to meet in person.  Benny knew that had been a pipedream.  No way it was going to be that easy.  But that didn’t eliminate the disappointment.  There were  only a handful of people that all three victims had shared messages with at all.  Police in Tennessee and Iowa had interviewed three of them, with no suspicious or even particularly remarkable results.  Benny had spoken with two of the remaining three that day, making several notes for followup items.  But he was left with a distinct feeling that none of them were going to lead anywhere.  They were all just…ordinary people.  None of them were killers.  And he would bet money none of them knew the killer.  The last name on his list was a Meg Masters.  He couldn’t interview her because she had died two months earlier, an apparent suicide.  Her parents were long dead, so he would interview her sister tomorrow, but Benny already had that sinking feeling that some dead girl who clearly couldn’t have attacked Dean or provided semen samples at three crime scenes wasn’t going to lead to anything useful.

And the forensic evidence was even more disappointing.  No hits on the semen.  Or fingerprints.  The only blood found belonged to the victims.  The only human and pet hairs found belonged to the victim or their pets.  The other fibers they found were all commonly used in clothing, carpet or similar materials, with no unique features.  The only ropes, tools and other objects that were found at the scenes appeared to have come from the victims’ homes.  _And_ were common as shit.  The fucking cigarette and cigar ashes were examined and gave them nothing.  The small sliver of wood found in the male victim’s rectum had seemed promising at first, turning out to be blackthorn, which Benny thought was unusual.  But it turns out it is often used, particularly in Ireland, for walking sticks or canes.  He had asked the lab to try to track it further, but they hadn’t found anything else that would help them tie that bit of wood to any particular store, distributor or craftsman.

He had photos and details on the burns and cuts the victims had suffered.  But they were relatively generic, so a match couldn’t be found conclusively based on those.  He would have to find the potential weapons and then they could compare and at least hopefully find that the injuries certainly could have been inflicted by those weapons.  It all just kept coming back to Benny having to find another way in to this thing.  He was starting to doubt his own instinct that the BDSM hookup site had to be the killer’s hunting ground.  But there was nothing else these three people had in common.  Or if there was Benny couldn’t find it.  He had an officer working through all three victims’ bank records now in more detail, but that was—well, maybe not a hail mary, but still a pretty goddamn big stretch.  _So guess what, they all ordered crap from Amazon.  Oh, that’ll crack the case wide open!_   He downed the rest of his glass and forced himself up to bed.  Maybe something would hit on Dean’s sketch tomorrow.

*             *             *

Nothing.  He couldn’t hear anything.  Well, the occasion owl and tree rustling from outside.  But inside the house was still and quiet.  Cas inhaled deeply, but all he could smell was the residue of his own deodorant and aftershave, and maybe a little stale room smell.  He’d been so focused on Dean he realized he hadn’t cleaned his own house in almost three weeks.  But he couldn’t smell anything of Dean.  Two doors, a wall and twenty feet meant he had no idea how Dean was feeling, whether he was sleeping soundly or having a nightmare, whether he was feeling scared and alone.  He looked at the clock:  3:34 AM.  _Fuck this._   He got up and walked quietly down to Dean’s door.  He stood in front of it and gently pressed his ear to the door, holding his breath.  He couldn’t hear anything—maybe there was deep, even breathing?  He couldn’t be sure.  He inhaled deeply—there was cinnamon and that-something-automotive, and there was a touch of ammonia.  Maybe a hint of vinegar?  But it wasn’t strong.  It wasn’t enough to justify barging into the omega’s only private space to kneel by his bedside, hold his hand and stroke his hair the rest of the night.  _He’s fine, Cas.  What he needs is space and privacy from fucking invasive alphas!_   Cas wanted to bang his head on the door with the frustration of it all.  Instead, he pushed back and headed down to the kitchen.  _So I’m either going to sleep in front of his door or I’m not going to sleep at all.  Jesus, I’m so screwed up._   He stood in front of the coffee machine, debating with himself.  He was tired, though, and Dean had several appointments Cas had to take him to that day.  He turned around and went back to his own room, grabbing the comforter and pillow and heading to Dean’s door.

*             *             *

 _Tired.  So tired._   Everything was hazy, like seeing through a mist.  He was more exhausted than he’d ever been, but the drugs or the pain, something wouldn’t let him sleep.  His arms were so sore and his knees were cramped and numb.  He dropped his head down, resting his cheek on the ridged surface below.  The radiator was hot, it stung his skin, but it didn’t matter.  He was too drained to fight anymore.  Dean drifted, letting his body sag within the restraints strapping his chest to the radiator.  He was kneeling before it, prostrate as if martyring himself before a god that apparently didn’t give two shits about him.  If only he could sleep, but that noise, the… music?  Someone was humming that…  The Man.  He was still here.  It wasn’t over.  But Dean was so tired.  He couldn’t remember having ever felt anything other than exhaustion.

The sound came closer and then there were footsteps on the tile.  Dean’s vision was blurring and he could only see to one side, but he saw The Man’s shadow fall over him as the footsteps stopped behind him.

“Hello again, Dean.”

Then nothing.  Just quiet.  Dean was drifting again.

“Well!” The Man said loudly, bringing Dean partially back to the present.  “This just really won’t do, Dean.  You’re getting to be no fun at all.  And I did come here for fun, you know.”  He was pacing back and forth a few steps to either side of Dean now, swinging something in his hands, angry and loud.  “Yes yes, there was also a job to do—a lesson to teach you.  And frankly, Dean, I don’t think you’ve been a very good student.”  It was a belt.  He was holding it in one hand and slapping it into the other for emphasis now and then.  “And now here you are falling (slap!) asleep (slap!) in class (slap!).  I think it’s time for the lesson to become a little more explicit.”

He took two steps away from Dean and then SMACK! the belt came down on Dean’s back with a terrible spike of pain.  The buckle had bitten into his flesh and the sting hissed into Dean’s nerves, up through his spine, and into his brain.  “You are nothing, Dean.”  SMACK!  “You are a worthless speck—a useless whore.”  FWAP!  “You rejected an alpha—someone who wanted you—someone who was willing to give you all the…”  FFWOP!  “…delicious, tantalizing, delectable…” SWACK! “…pain that you could ever want.”  SMACK!  Dean could feel a few drips of blood creepy warmly down his cold skin.  “You.” THWACK!  “Had.” FWAP! “No.” SWACK! “Right.” FWAP! Dean was so heavy now, he felt like his head was pinned down onto the radiator even though he knew it wasn’t.  The heat stung against his bare flesh, but it was solid and real.  It didn’t change.  It would still be here even when The Man wasn’t and when Dean finally was released and could leave his body and not be here anymore.

“You are weak.”  SWACK!  The hit was harder this time.  The force of it slammed Dean’s chest against the radiator and his broken wrist screamed in pain.  Dean yelled into the cloth jammed in his mouth and technicolor spots flashed behind his eyelids.  “Only disgusting…” SWACK! “…trashy little sluts…” SMACK! “…would get off…” THWACK! “…on being hurt.” SWACK!  His back felt like a large open wound—all he knew was the burning and throbbing and jolts of pain.  And he knew he deserved it all.  What kind of person got off on pain?  This was what he’d had coming to him for all these years.  This is what he should have known would come from seeking out pain.  And wasn’t this what he’d been asking for?

The Man leaned down next to Dean and the anger was gone from his voice now.  He was back to his sing-song sick-pleasure-seeker voice.  “Well, we’re just going to make sure that you never reject your superior ever again.  We’re going to make sure no alpha—no quality person of any kind—will ever.”  He leaned forward to put his lips right next to Dean’s ear.  “Want.” His tongue swiped wetly across Dean’s ear. “You again.”  He stood and moved out of Dean’s hazy vision and Dean could hear him somewhere close behind.  There was a rustling and then suddenly a hot liquid was streaming onto his back, like molten lava in the open flesh waiting there.  He screamed uselessly behind his gag and his body spasmed against his bindings, setting the pain in his arm off again.  A sharp, acrid smell surrounded him and he realized The Man was pissing on his flayed back.  Dean writhed in pain and tears streamed from his eyes.  He was nothing.  He was a sickening pit of wasted flesh.  How could he ever go back to pretending?  How could he paste on his old façade of cockiness and bravado and act like he was…anything?  Dean was an omega gone wrong, rancid and foul.  He had been so proud when he had moved away from his family, letting them live their lives without his presence to distract or interfere.  But how could that be enough?  They were still tied to him—still loved him.  They had no idea what he really was—and everything he really wasn’t.

Dean became aware in the background of his thoughts of a wet rhythmic sound.  As The Man moaned loudly just above him, Dean realized he was jacking himself hard, stripping away at his cock just behind Dean’s raw, red back.  But Dean didn’t care.  He couldn’t see why it would matter.  He slumped against the radiator and waited for the burning and stinging and pounding in his flesh to somehow go away.  It would have to go away someday.  Or at least Dean would go away.  Then The Man moaned again and he felt a light warm splatter on his shoulder.  Suddenly, the cloth was ripped out of his mouth and The Man’s fingers were shoved in.  They were covered in his jizz, thick and salty and like spoiled sour cream.  Dean gagged and coughed and…

…then Cas was there?  What was Cas doing there?  He was looking at Dean with those insanely blue eyes opened much too wide.  What was wrong?  Was something wrong with Cas?

“Yes, Dean, oh good, that’s right, you’re awake now, Dean, that’s good.  Oh thank God.”  
Then it was back.  The dream.  The Man.  The shame.  The scum that Dean was.  Dean was engulfed in sadness and shame, drowning in the knowledge of his own worthlessness.  A sob burst out of him and he realized that tears were streaming down his face.

“Oh Dean!” Cas cried out, and slid onto the bed next to Dean to sit up against the headboard.  He pulled Dean over to him, tucking Dean’s face against his chest and muttering Shh’s and Dean’s and It’s-Okays.  Dean laid his cast across Castiel’s chest and took hold of Cas’s t-shirt in his fingers, fisting it tightly and clinging to Cas’s warm body.    


	22. Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny interviews Ruby. Cas worries about Dean.

“Ms. Masters, I’m Detective Lafitte with the Madison PD.  I was hoping you might have time to answer a few questions for me?”  The extremely attractive beta showed no surprise at seeing a detective on her doorstep.  In fact, she showed no reaction at all that Benny could detect.  If anything, he thought she seemed a bit bored.

“Ruby.”

“Excuse me?”

“I prefer…just Ruby.”

“Of course.  Ruby.  May I come in?”

She stepped to one side, holding the door wide open for Benny.  He stepped in and followed her to a lived-in but clean family room, and took a seat on the couch when she indicated it.

“So what is this about?”

“It’s about your sister, Meg.  I understand she died a couple months ago.  I’m very sorry for your loss, and I’m sorry this may be difficult but I do have to ask you some questions about her in connection with a crime we’re investigating.”  As Benny was speaking Ruby snorted and when he finished, Ruby had lost her bored air and was leaning forward a bit.

“Really?  What sort of crime?”

“Assault.”

Ruby sat back in her chair without inquiring further, so Benny started out with, “Were you and Meg close?”

Ruby snorted again.  “You could say that.  Or you could not.”

“Could you explain what you mean?”

“Well, we lived here together and pretty much knew everything about each other.  But we weren’t exactly besties.”  She sounded a bit hostile now, but apparently not at Benny.

“Why not?”

“These questions sound more like a shrink than a cop.”

Benny studied Ruby.  He could feel the edge of old frustrations surrounding her, but she still sat comfortably in her chair.  He didn’t sense evasion from her, just curiosity and slightly veiled interest.  He still felt Meg Masters was likely a dead end, but if there was any chance she was involved it was clear that Ruby was his way in.  There appeared to be no love lost between the two.  “Please.  It may help my investigation to understand Meg.”

Ruby huffed a partial laugh.  “Pretty easy to understand.  Spoiled little girl.  The apple of Daddy’s eye.  But a sick, rotten apple at the core, if you ask me.”

And there it was.  Definitely no love lost.  “Why do you say that?”

“Because nothing was ever enough for her.  She sucked every particle of energy out of everyone close to her and she always still needed more.  She had a black hole inside that no one could ever fill and finally it killed her.”

“Who were Meg’s closest friends?”

“She didn’t have friends.”

“Did she have a boyfriend?  A lover?”

Ruby snorted.  “No one regular.”

“Do you know if she frequented online dating sites?”

“She wasn’t interested in dating.”

“What was she interest in?”

Ruby leaned forward.  She lowered her voice and stared Benny in the eyes as she answered, “Pain.”

“You mean in her sex life?”

“In every part of her life.”

“Do you know if she frequented any online sites for meeting…like-minded partners?”

Ruby laughed and relaxed back a bit in her chair.  “Yah, I think there were a few.”

“Did Meg tell you about any of the people she met?”

Ruby looked out the window, suddenly bored again.  “Maybe a few times, but not much.  She didn’t like to share.  If she had a really great time with someone she might mention it the next day, but she never gave me any names or details or anything like that.”

“Did Meg share her sexual preferences with you?  Do you know what genders she preferred?  Whether she was into giving or receiving pain more?”

“She didn’t have to share.  All our lives it was obvious.  She was a complete sadist.  I swear when we were kids I was sure we were going to find dead animal carcasses in her closet or something.  Nothing made her happier than hurting someone else.  It was the only thing that came close to joy for her, I think.  And she liked omegas…the pretty ones.”

Benny didn’t react outwardly, but inside he was back on full alert.  Maybe somehow Meg _was_ involved.  If not with Dean, then maybe with Bela, the victim from Iowa.  There was no doubt she had been a very pretty omega.  “Do you have access to Meg’s computer or phone?”

Now Ruby smiled widely, and said, her voice dripping with velvet, “Why yes, Detective, I do.  Would you like them?”

*             *             *

Castiel sat in his car outside Dean’s counselor’s office.  After Dean’s nightmare, Cas had held him tightly until he stopped shaking and they had laid together in the dark after that, Cas stroking Dean’s hair and listening to him breathe.  Then Dean had said, “I’m tired.”  Cas knew he meant so much more than just the night’s disrupted sleep.  Cas had said it would get better, but that seemed to frustrate Dean.  “I don’t know.  I’ve been tired for so long.  It just builds up and adds on.  And you’re supposed to just keep on even when you’re so tired and heavy that with just one more breath you could get buried under the weight of it.  I don’t remember why.”  “Why what?” Cas had asked.   “Why.  The big why.  What it’s all for.  I mean, I get what it’s all for for most people.  But what am I for?  Why am I keeping on like this?  How in the fuck is this going to be worth it someday?”

A pain stabbed in Cas’s chest like a fist clenching his gut or a knife twisting inside him.  He whispered quietly to Dean, “What do you think it’s for for most people?”

“Oh you know, spouse, kids, dogs, house in the suburbs, plasma TV.”

“But you don’t want those things.”  It was a question even though Cas hadn’t asked it that way.

Dean sighed, as if tired of trying to explain.  “It isn’t that.  Some of that would be nice.  But it’s just…hard to imagine.  If I imagine it, I just see myself, the same as I am now, tired and fucked up and worth…just me, with a family and a house sort of around me, but not really a part of it.  I wouldn’t fit in.  I don’t fit in.  To my own fucking future.”

“Dean, I don’t know if you’ll ever stop feeling tired, or be able to fully enjoy your own life.  But I do know that you have to always keep fighting.  You can’t let the tired version of you make the decision for all the other versions of you.”  They lay quietly for a while, and then Cas whispered, “And I’ll be here to help you as long as you’ll let me.”  He didn’t know if Dean had heard him.

When they woke up a few hours later, Dean had been subdued and tired, but he made no attempts to get out of his doctor appointments for the day, so they had gone to the hospital for follow up testing on his kidneys, wrist and toes.  Now, sitting outside the psychiatric practice’s office, Castiel wondered how much of the depth of Dean’s struggles he would share with the counselor.  When Dean came out of his counselor’s office he looked drained.  Castiel wished he could fold the omega into his arms and let his own energy and strength pour into Dean’s body.  Since he couldn’t he had another idea, though he wasn’t at all sure it would help.  But he had to try.

Dean folded himself, crutches, boots and all, into Cas’s car, not even grumbling about the small foreign car.  Cas started it up and pulled out into traffic, heading further into the suburbs, rather than back toward home.  Dean didn’t say anything, but did look over at Cas.

“There’s something I’d like to show you before we head home.”  Cas looked at his watch:  11:40 AM.  _Perfect.  We’ll get there almost right at noon._  

Sure enough, at 11:57 AM they pulled up to a sprawling one-story building with a sign that read “Harmony Restoration Center.”  Cas parked and directed Dean to a large grassy area on one side of the grounds, scattered with picnic tables and benches.  There were a variety of people already seated or playing in the grass, children playing tag, a group playing Frisbee, various people waiting at the tables or on benches.  Cas led Dean to a bench and they sat. 

When two men opened a wide double door from the building to the lawn and were propping the doors open, Cas said, “My sister used to work here—it’s a clinic for omegas struggling with—well, I guess with almost anything.  I used to live close by and we would go to lunch together a lot.  My favorite day to pick her up was always Thursday.  I would come early so I could be here to see this.” 

As he finished speaking, a young woman walked out of the building, blinking in the sunlight as she looked around.  Suddenly, a little boy ran up to her and flung his arms around her knees.  A smile broke out on her face and she bent down and pulled the boy into a hug.  Behind her an older man emerged, followed by two more women.  A woman of similar age beckoned to the man and they walked toward each other as if enjoying the process itself, then collapsed into a tight embrace.  Cas could see the woman’s fingers whiten as she gripped the man’s shoulders tightly.  One of the next women was met by an older woman, and though they smiled at each other, they did not embrace, but held hands and walked over to a table to sit.  The other woman was met by a young man and two little girls who immediately wanted to introduce her to the dollies they were clutching.

Cas and Dean watched as one after another omega emerged and was greeted by loved ones.  A couple of groups strode directly to their cars, but most shared some time there together to embrace, scent each other, talk for a while.  Cas noticed Dean watching two young women who had seated themselves at a picnic table near them.  They sat on opposite sides of the table, but had each stretched both arms across it to hold the other’s hands tightly.  They gazed at each other and spoke moderately, but Cas and Dean could clearly hear everything they said.  The omega thanked the alpha for picking her up, and the alpha said that nothing in the world was more important to her.  The omega looked down and her girlfriend reached out to take her chin in her fingers and reiterate that she was the most precious thing in the world.  The omega said, “I’m still learning how to believe that,” and her alpha said, “Well, I’ll believe it enough for both us until then.”  The shy smile from the omega at that was like the sun peeking out from behind clouds after a long storm.  The couple leaned forward and kissed, somehow both chaste and intense, a kiss that seemed to last minutes though it must have only been seconds.

Several more omegas had emerged while they had watched the young couple, and everyone had segmented off into groups to enjoy each other’s presence and get re-integrated.  An older male alpha and female omega pair walked slowly about the lawn, holding hands and pointing at birds.  A young couple were locked in a tight embrace that seemed never ending.  The omega had her face pressed tight to her alpha’s neck and they rocked in place.  Cas thought he detected the man humming quietly, though it was hard to tell from a distance.  The little boy who had greeted the first omega was babbling happily to her as a man sat nearby gazing adoringly at her, and occasionally clarifying something in the boy’s story.

Cas waited for Dean to become bored or irritated, to ask him why they were there, to become hostile or sad.  But he appeared as absorbed in the scene as Castiel used to be when he’d come there to see Anna.  So they stayed.  The day was beautiful, with the sun shining brightly and Cas let himself enjoy the scents floating through the yard.  There were scents of trepidation and concern, but they were nothing compared to the love, compassion and pure joy that was everywhere around them.  And right next to Cas, there was the now ever present scent of jasmine, engine grease and cinnamon. 

One by one the groups departed, and only when the last couple, the young lesbians right next to them, started to rise did Dean stir.  He stretched gently and turned to look at Cas.  He still looked tired and drained, but he didn’t look or smell frustrated.  He rose, reached for his crutches, and said, “So what’s good around here for lunch?”


	23. Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean have a quiet day or two and work something out.

When they got home after lunch, Dean lay down for a nap and Cas did some writing.  It was soothing, to focus on something else for a while rather than Dean’s trauma and the endless quest to figure out how he could be of any help in Dean’s healing.  It wasn’t only Dean who had been traumatized—Cas too had been riding waves of conflicting emotions these past two weeks.  Obviously it was nothing compared to what Dean had suffered, but Cas knew he was emotionally exhausted as well and had needed the visit to the omega center as much as Dean had.

When Dean came downstairs he was still quiet and subdued, but he was less pale and drawn looking and he smiled slightly at Cas when he took a beer from the fridge.  Cas heard him out in the living room leaving a message for Sam and then speaking briefly with Bobby, and Cas’s heart swelled with the sign that Dean had not given up.  At least not today.  _And I will do anything—give anything—to make sure he doesn’t give up tomorrow either._ Then he heard Dean turn on the TV and after a couple minutes the familiar sound of Dean’s favorite soap opera, _Dr. Sexy_.  Cas smiled and turned back to his page.

The rest of that night and the next day all went by quietly but comfortably.  Well, if you counted Cas sleeping in the hallway next to Dean’s door as comfortable.  But he did manage to doze off by about 2:00 AM or so and never heard or scented any distress from Dean.  In the afternoon on Friday, Cas noticed Dean with a small box of tools moving about his house and realized later that Dean had repaired a few things he had been neglecting—the leaky faucet in his master bath, a dislodged trim piece in the hallway, the storm door that wouldn’t shut properly.  Otherwise, Dean relaxed on the couch or puttered about the kitchen.  He seemed mostly himself, but a little less flirtatious and sarcastic.  Like Dean, but somehow “turned down.”  It wasn’t something Cas was used to in Dean—it put them both on sort of an even footing instead of the constant sense of catching up that Cas was accustomed to around Dean.

 

By the end of day Friday, Cas had written more than he had in weeks and was feeling revitalized.  He wanted to do something special for Dean, but knew the omega was still healing and wouldn’t be physically up to anything strenuous.  As Dean was brushing his teeth in the bathroom Friday night, Cas came up and leaned in the doorway, watching.  He was inordinately pleased when Dean didn’t flinch or stop what he was doing, just kept brushing, then finished up, spitting and wiping his mouth on the hand towel.  Finally, he looked at Cas in the mirror and said, “Sure you wouldn’t rather take a picture?  It’ll last longer.”

Cas smiled.  Dean smelled like mint and soap, with the underlying leather and jasmine already coming through again.  He wanted to wrap his arms around Dean’s midsection and bury his nose in Dean’s neck.  “I thought it might be nice to take a drive tomorrow.”

Dean turned and looked at Cas, leaning slightly against the basin.  “Together?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas chuckled lightly.  “I would like to take you for a drive tomorrow.  If you would like that.  The weather is supposed to be beautiful and we’ve been in this house all week.  I could use some fresh air.”

“Uh…  Okay.  But we’re taking Baby.”

“Dean, you can’t drive yet.”

“I know.  So I’ll have to live with you driving.  Wait’ll you sit in Baby’s driver’s seat.  You won’t believe how she feels when her engine is purring and the road is sliding beneath her tires.”  Dean’s green eyes were lit up with excitement and he smelled faintly of pride.  After a moment, he turned back to the mirror and reached for the floss.

Cas said, “Great.  Um…  well, goodnight then.”

Dean smiled briefly at him in the mirror.  “Night, Cas.”

After Dean had shut his bedroom door, Cas tried again, as he had several nights before, to fall asleep in his own bed.  Already it had begun to seem uncomfortable—too soft, disagreeably warm, and much too large around him.  He almost longed for the open hallway and hard floor underneath a scratchy carpet.  But he knew he couldn’t sleep outside Dean’s door forever.  If Dean was getting better, he had to stop this before it became a destructive habit.  If it hadn’t already.  So he lay in bed, tossing and turning.  For half an hour.  Then an hour.  He got up and drank some water.  He checked the alarm system.  He did some push-ups.  Then he lay in bed again.  But sleep would not come.  At 1:30 he gave up.  He sat up in bed for twenty minutes trying to decide whether to go downstairs to watch television or give in to what he really wanted to do.  Finally, he picked up his phone, pillow and comforter and padded down to Dean’s door.  He stopped in front of it and pressed his ear to the door, listening.  He thought he could hear a muffled heavy even breathing sound coming from inside.  He inhaled and got only jasmine and cinnamon, with perhaps a touch of lilac.  He lay down and was asleep almost instantly.

*             *             *

Dean woke up early on Saturday—at least, earlier than he had been since he’d been staying with Cas.  Most nights either he had slept like a rock, his body apparently worn out from healing itself and the small amount of activity he was getting cooking and baking, or his sleep had been so disturbed by nightmares that he had only fallen back asleep at 4 or 5 in the morning.  But this night he had slept through without disturbance and today they were going for a drive in his Baby!  He was going to feel the wind in his face and the Impala's rumble underneath him.  He realized he was excited.  Looking forward to something for the first time since the attack.  Nevertheless, his body still needed coffee.

He sat up and tugged on the hated boots.  He was so fucking sick of these things, but he wasn’t going to risk a stubbed toe stopping him from getting out into the world today.  He hobbled over to the door where his crutches were waiting, pulled open the door and already was striding forward as he tugged the crutches underneath his arms.  Then he was falling—something big was in front of his door and he tripped on it.  He tucked his cast into his chest and twisted to try to fall on his other side.  He was already thanking God for the boots and silently promising to quit hating them as his feet had barely felt whatever he had kicked.  He hit the ground with a quiet _oomph!_ and only a bit of complaint from his chest—probably one of his ribs that wasn’t fully healed.  But he had managed to avoid kicking anything else with his feet or any pressure on his broken wrist, so Dean considered that a pretty huge win.  The big lump in the hallway turned out to be Cas’s comforter and as Dean rolled to his knees and reached for his crutches, the comforter wriggled and moved, revealing a sleepy-eyed Castiel with hair sticking out in every direction.  Of course, his hair pretty much always looked like that.

“Dean?” Cas said blearily.  Then he suddenly went from a hibernating bear to a whirling dervish, throwing his comforter off and jumping up onto his knees, leaning over toward Dean and asking with a sort of panicked voice, “Omigod, are you alright?”

Dean stared at Cas.  Cas was in front of his door asleep, wrapped up in his comforter.  _Cas was sleeping in front of my door._

“Dean, are you okay?  Are you hurt?  Did you have a nightmare?”  Cas was becoming agitated but Dean had no idea what to say to this man.  _This alpha.  Who slept in front of my door.  On the floor._   Dean thought about two nights before when he had woken up from a flashback or nightmare or whatever to find Cas’s face hovering over him looking haggard and worried.  And the time a few nights earlier when Cas had been kneeling next to him on the floor by his nightstand.

Cas was still watching him with his brow deeply furrowed and one hand outstretched toward Dean, just hanging there a couple inches from Dean’s shoulder. 

“I’m fine, Cas.”  Dean got to his feet and leaned on his crutches, looking down at Cas, who had sighed with relief and was now looking around himself disorientedly and shaking his blanket out searching for something.  “Uh…Cas.  What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find my phone.  I know it’s here.  What time is it?  My alarm should have gone off.  I…”

“Cas!”

Cas looked up at Dean.

“Were you sleeping out here?”

Cas looked down and murmured, “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Cas, you don’t have to be sorry.  Just…were you?”

“Yes.”  He didn’t look up, and Dean could barely hear him.  A sour smell that hurt Dean’s chest started to come from Cas.

 _Fuck.  I don’t know how to do this.  I’m no good at this stuff.  Shit._   “Okay, well, uh, I need some coffee, so I’ll see you down there.”

Now Cas looked up, clearly unsure how to take Dean’s reaction.  But Dean wasn’t ready to do better.  _Not without some fucking caffeine._   He turned on his crutches and headed down the stairs.

As he watched the coffee maker percolating, Dean’s mind flashed back to the first moment he woke up at the hospital.   He had heard a voice close to him whispering shushing noises and nonsense about Dean being safe before he even recognized it as belonging to Cas.  When he opened his eyes, Cas was sitting in that chair next to him, holding his hand and leaning close, his face tight with worry.  When Dean couldn’t sleep, Cas had read to him and the next thing Dean knew he was waking up in the morning to find Cas still sitting there…or sitting there again.  _Fuck.  I’m a fucking idiot.  It’s not like I didn’t know.  Cas said straight out he couldn’t leave me there alone._   Dean heard the nurse, Cassie, saying to him “That’s one devoted alpha you’ve got there” when he woke up to find Cas with his head asleep on Dean’s bed.  After Dean had thrown him out of his room the night before.  And he saw Cas’s panic when he woke up after that and heard Cas’s voice apologizing for what he saw as “invading Dean’s privacy.”  _Shit shit shit._

 _Cas._  He heard Sammy’s voice asking him how he felt about Cas.  And he had no answer.  He felt…he felt like feeling _anything_ was really fucking hard right now.  He knew he liked being around Cas.  And lately he’d had a couple pretty great orgasms to the thought of Cas’s voice and eyes.  Cas’s scent was fucking ridiculous—from the first time he scented him at the hospital Dean had wanted to roll around in it like a pig in a pen, preferably for hours uninterrupted.  But he didn’t think he felt the way Cas felt.  Maybe he could.  Maybe he _would_.  But he just didn’t right now.  Feeling things was so fucking hard and he was working on it but had to admit he was never really that great at it in the first place.  And now after…that man….

 _I’m taking advantage of him._   But he didn’t think he could give up what Cas was providing him right now—not willingly.  Not just to protect Cas.  His home—and he guessed the alpha himself—had become Dean’s sanctuary.  _And I need it.  I need it so fucking much._   The thought of going back to his own house and trying to live inside those walls where—his stomach rebelled violently at the thought.  But going to Ellen’s or Bobby’s was upsetting in a different way.  He couldn’t handle their constant presence right now, he knew it.  If he had to leave Cas’s he would have to get an apartment, maybe start looking into selling his house, and that was all too huge, too permanent, he couldn’t wrap his head around it and he knew he shouldn’t be making decisions like that.  He’d been surprised when his counselor had agreed with him that Castiel’s seemed like the best place for him right now.  Not to mention that Benny had thought he would be safer there.  And Benny was worried the psycho might come back for seconds.  Dean’s mind helpfully supplied a vision of Cas holding that prick alpha at the police station up against the wall, growling at him to apologize.  He couldn’t help but wonder if Cas might be a match for that bastard killer after all.  And of course that was when Cas walked into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled partway up his forearms, hair still a crazy mess, but eyes no longer blurred with sleepiness.

The coffee was done.  _Oh yeah._   Dean reached up and pulled two mugs from the cabinet and filled each one, sliding one over to Cas, who nodded his thanks and took it over to the table.  When Dean joined him there, Cas immediately started talking, his voice rushed and nervous-sounding.  “Dean, I…I am so sorry.  It was not my inten—”

“Cas, wait,” Dean interrupted quietly.  Cas’s mouth clapped shut.  “Please.  Let me—I think maybe I should…”  Dean took a deep breath.  _God, I’m shit at this._   “You have been so great, Cas.  You have done so much for me and I won’t ever be able to—”

“Oh God, Dean, please don’t go!”  Cas had let go of his coffee and had both hands pressed tightly to the table, his eyes wide and shining.  Dean stared at him in surprise at the outburst and he watched as Cas seemed to realize what he had just said and his eyes got even wider, his shoulders drooped and he looked down, his hands slowly relaxing and dropping down into his lap. 

Dean almost laughed it was so adorable, but he wasn’t about to make Cas feel any worse.  “Cas, no, it isn’t that.  That’s not what I want to say.”

Cas looked up again at Dean, relief painted all over his face.

“But I’m not really great at words and touchy-feely shit, so you just have to give me a minute and let me get this out, okay?”

Cas opened his mouth, and Dean didn’t have to be a mind-reader to predict the apology he was going to offer.  But to Dean’s surprise, Cas shut his mouth without speaking, and nodded once, firmly, instead.  His hands came up to wrap around his coffee mug again.

Dean sighed, considering his words carefully this time.   _Maybe a more direct approach would be better.  I shouldn’t have tried to say all the nice things like Cas would.  Just get to the fucking point._   “Have you been sleeping outside my door ever since we came home?”

Cas pressed his lips together for a moment, then seemed to sort of straighten his shoulders and sit up. He looked a child getting ready to accept his punishment.  Dean had expected one of Cas’s patented babbling explanations, trying to make Dean understand, but all he said was, “Yes.”

Dean felt his own eyebrow raise.  “I’m guessing you had trouble falling asleep in your own room.”

Dean could see some of the tension fall from Cas’s shoulders.  “Yes.”

Dean smiled a little, pleased that he was starting to understand this sometimes rather strange man.  “Well, I think we should probably do something about that.”  He saw Cas stiffen again and his heart lurched for his— _not mine!_ —alpha.  What an emotional roller coaster Cas was on.  Dean wasn’t the only one struggling.  “Relax, Cas.  Please.  I just think we should try to figure something out so we can both sleep.”  He waited to see if Cas would get the hint, but he was just staring at Dean with a somewhat confused look on his face, head tilted a bit to one side, eyes squinted.  Dean took a breath and plunged ahead.  “If we both need each other to get any goddamn sleep then we should just fucking sleep together.”  _Jesus, why did I have to make it sound like a fucking death sentence?_

Apparently Dean’s presentation hadn’t bothered Cas, though, as he still simply looked a little confused.  “Sleep…together?”

“Yah, Cas.  I mean, it’s basically happened a couple times already after my nightmares.  Maybe we should quit waiting for the nightmare to happen first.  Your bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Cas was visibly more relaxed now, and Dean had the sudden urge to crawl into his lap and bury his face in the alpha’s neck.  “I would be…I would love…of course you are welcome….”  Cas paused, then said, “I think that’s a good idea.”

This time Dean did allow himself to chuckle lightly aloud.  _Jesus Christ, he’s cute._   He cleared his throat.  “But, I guess we should be clear.  We’re just talking about sleep, okay?”

Cas reacted with obvious surprise.  “Of course, Dean.  I would never…take advantage of you in any way.  You will always be completely safe in my bed.”

The man just had no idea how he sounded.  Everything he said just made Dean want to either lick him or store him away in a box like a treasured artifact.  “Cas, I know that.  I trust you.  I just…I don’t know…I’m not ready….”  _Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck._   “It’s me.  I’m talking about me.  _I_ don’t want to take advantage of _you_.  I know you…well you said you have feelings for me, and I just don’t think it would be right to let you think that this would mean that we’re…you know, like a couple.”  Dean was drowning.  Why did trying not to be a dick make you feel like such a dick?

But Cas seemed to understand.  Instead of being offended and pulling away or closing off, he reached out to take Dean’s hand across the table and squeezed it gently.  “Of course, Dean.  I have no expectations of you romantically.  It would mean a great deal to me to simply be closer to you as you slept.”  He smiled then, released Dean’s hand and as he stood up and walked over to the coffee machine to refill his cup said lightly, “And my back will definitely appreciate saying goodbye to that hallway floor.”

Dean watched Cas walk out of the kitchen and head back upstairs with his coffee mug in hand and he suddenly found himself yearning—wishing he deserved someone as amazing as this sweet, strong, lonely, generous, awkward, gorgeous alpha.       


	24. Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean go for a drive; Benny works on the case

Cas held the door for Dean as he slid into Baby’s passenger seat and he didn’t have to inhale Dean’s scent to know how satisfied and comfortable he suddenly felt.  Dean didn’t groan out loud, but all of his muscles seemed to relax into the leather seats at once and the veneer of false positivity that often covered his features fell away as a genuine smile lit up his face.  Cas shut the door behind Dean, stashed the crutches in the back seat and slipped behind the wheel.  He was surprised at how comfortable he felt, having been sure that the pressure of driving Dean’s precious Impala would generate nervous tension for him.  But Dean wasn’t even watching him as he was already fiddling around in the glovebox to find the perfect soundtrack for their road trip.  As they pulled out, Cas was already congratulating himself for the great idea.

Cas drove a few hours, heading randomly down roads, sticking to two lane winding blacktop, running through small towns but avoiding any actual cities.  They stopped after an hour or so to pick up some beer (for later) and sodas (for now), and to allow Dean to stretch his legs.  After a couple more hours they picked a roadside diner for lunch and Cas spent most of it watching the shine in Dean’s eyes and trying not to jump up and dance because he had put it there.  After lunch, they drove into a state park, pulled out the cooler with the beer and cracked a couple open sitting on top of a picnic table.  They watched the squirrels and birds for a while in silence, then Dean told Cas he’d be right back and hobbled over to the car.  When he returned he held out the paperback copy of _Watership Down_ from the hospital without saying a word.  Cas wondered if this was what it had felt like for the Grinch when his heart suddenly “grew three sizes.”  Something was certainly swelling in his own chest and it felt a bit like pain if pain could be a side effect of so damn much joy.  He looked up at Dean as he took the book and he knew his eyes were filled with unshed tears, but Dean didn’t seem to mind.  He just leaned back onto the table with his hands behind his head and stared up into the blue sky, waiting for Cas to start.

*             *             *

Benny dropped the large envelope from computer forensics onto his coffee table next to the whiskey bottle and kicked his shoes off.  He went to the fridge, pulled the carton of leftover Chinese out and slid it into the microwave.  Three minutes later he was sitting on the couch and pulling out the sheaf of paper from the envelope.  He had waited two days for this, but now according to the tech guys he had in his hands everything they found on Meg’s computer relating to SpankBank, BDSM, any of the victims, and all of her other correspondence and message history, including a batch of emails between she and Dean. 

The timeline he had put together so far, was sitting on the other end of the coffee table.  He had been staring at it for two days—the bareness of it taunted him.  He had no timeline because he had no clear suspects. 

February 18                        Bela Talbot’s body found

March 6                                Adam Milligan’s body found

March 29 – April 1            Dean Winchester assault

 

_From:  BadCompany13_

_To:  PainMasters_

_May 23  12:51 AM_

Pictures are attached per your request on SB.

Frank

 

Benny recognized the false name, Frank Castle, that Dean had given out regularly on SpankBank.  _Good job, Dean._  

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_May 23   04:13 AM_

Your pictures are hot enough to scorch.  I think you would make a beautiful canvas, but I wonder if someone so pretty can handle serious pain.  I’m not interested in light play, so I’d rather if you let me know up front what your limits are so neither of us wastes our time.  If you are interested in me sending pictures, please let me know what you would like to see.

 

_From:  BadCompany13_

_To:  PainMasters_

_May 24   12:21 AM_

I don’t need any photos, just need to meet in person and if we agree to meet in private I will need to know the location in advance.  My only hard limits are non-pain related—no humiliation, no scat, no pet or little play.  Frankly, I’m not interested in “play” at all.  I have no interest in D/s, or serving you, other than as an outlet for sadism and related straightforward sex.  As to pain, I have no limits except perhaps no broken bones or activity that would be otherwise too physically debilitating as I have a physical job.  But if I can still work and the evidence can be covered up, it’s all good.  I enjoy flogging, whipping, cutting, and so far no one has ever been able to push me too far.  Honestly, I’m still looking for the right person who can give me enough pain—it’s hard to find someone who isn’t too careful.

Frank

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_May 24   06:25 PM_

Well, I’m your unicorn.  I can definitely hurt you, Frank.  Let’s meet tomorrow at 7:00 at the diner on Highway 51 at the Round Hill exit.  If it goes well then we can play on Saturday night so you have time to recover before you work on Monday. 

 

_From:  BadCompany13_

_To:  PainMasters_

_May 24   08:54 PM_

See you there.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_May 29  10:38 AM_

You were beautiful last night.  I was a little displeased you had such limited time for our first encounter since our date was set in advance, but your skin looked gorgeous striped with welts from my whip.  The photos will have to tide me over until we can meet this weekend.  I am looking forward to trying out a new blade I got on you.

 

_From:  BadCompany13_

_To:  PainMasters_

_June 1   11:53 PM_

What the hell!?  We didn’t say anything about photos.  Delete them all and don’t call me or write me.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_June 2   02:41 AM_

Frank, of course I had to take pictures of your gorgeous back covered in the beautiful work I had made of it.  If you saw them you would understand.  Your skin, broken open and spilling out bits of red, the blood beading up in strips, melting here and there together….  It is a true work of art.  And I know you enjoyed the experience.  It’s not as if you could hide how hard you got and how you were dripping with the joy of the heat and agony.  And it was beautiful when you came for me untouched with the last hard stroke.  You seemed appreciative enough when you shoved your tongue inside me after that and tried to make me scream the way I’d made you scream.  You have never had anyone give you such pain and pleasure at the same time before, so don’t try to kid either one of us.  You’re going to let me do it again.  See you Saturday.  Same time and place.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_June 6   04:32 AM_

Frank, it isn’t right to play games like this.  I know you don’t mean what you said, so you’d best just stop whatever this is you are doing.  Okay, yes, I did take the photos to share, but not out on the internet like you are thinking.  I just share them with one special person in my life, no one else.  I never publish them.  They are just for us to enjoy together.  When I have a canvas as beautiful as you, I share my creations with him because he was my teacher, my mentor, and he understands the true joy of a subject like you to work on.  If it is a problem for you, we can discuss that and work something out.  Perhaps you can meet him to get comfortable with that.  Or I might consider not sharing them or taking more photos of you if there is no other way.  But I can’t imagine not getting to decorate your body with my work ever again.  We could meet to discuss it before we play.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_June 16  7:15 PM_

Frank, you should at least respond to me.  Don’t be rude.

 

_From:  BadCompany13_

_To:  PainMasters_

_June 17   12:27 AM_

You were rude first by taking pictures without fucking telling me.  It’s not okay and it will not be okay regardless of who your goddamn mentor is.  I only agreed to meet with you and we both agreed it was entirely private.  We won’t be meeting again in public or private.  Do what you want with the photos you have.  I don’t give a shit.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_June 17   03:14 AM_

Frank, you don’t mean that.  I know you’ve never felt what I made you feel.  Let’s meet and talk this out.  Please.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_June 23  01:42 AM_

Come on.  Quit fucking around.  The photos aren’t such a fucking big deal.  I know better.  You’ve been around.  You’ve done it all—it’s fucking obvious.  Don’t act so innocent.  You got exactly what you needed and I gave it to you better than anyone ever has.  So quit being coy.  Admit you want more and you can have it.  You can have exactly what you need.

 

_From:  BadCompany13_

_To:  PainMasters_

_June 24   12:07 AM_

I’m as serious as a fucking heart attack.  You crossed the line.  Move on and leave me out of your twisted life.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_June 24   08:11 AM_

Frank, that was harsh.  But okay, message heard.  I won’t do it again.  But I will make you bleed again and scream again—in the best way—just the way you like it.  More and more and more and more until even you can’t take any more and you explode for me like you did before.  What we did was just the beginning.  There is so much more I can give you.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_June 26   02:19 AM_

Come on.  Just give in to what you want, Frank.  I need to taste you again.  I know you need it, too.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_July 5  12:48 AM_

I’m looking at your photos.  I have to have another taste of you, Frank.  What is it going to take?  Just tell me?  Do I have to beg?

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_July 9  01:08 AM_

Okay, officially over the foreplay.  Please, Frank.  Give me a chance.  No one has ever taken as much as you did—I’ve never seen anyone get as turned on and still stay so quiet and calm for as long.  And then when you did make noises—they were the hottest sounds I’ve ever heard.  I don’t know how to live without getting more of that.  I can make it up to you.  I can make you hurt like you never have before and come harder than you ever have before. 

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_August 11   06:33 AM_

Frank, where are you?  Please talk to me.  Let me try.  I need you.  I need your moans and your screams.  I need to see your red skin and blood beneath me.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_August 23   06:16 PM_

I can’t call you Frank anymore.  I know it’s not your real name.  Just tell me your name and I’ll find you.  I know you want more pain.  Just the way I did it.  You fucking loved it—just let yourself have this.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_October 3   02:13 AM_

Please.  I need it.  Please.  I have to taste you.  Don’t do this.  Tell me your name.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_October 8   02:49 AM_

All I do is think about you.  I’ve looked at your pictures until the red blurs together and I can’t see anything else but your skin and blood.  Please let me hurt you.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_January 13   12:23 AM_

I’ve tried others while you’ve been ignoring me.  But no one holds still and grits their teeth like you do.  No one gets harder and harder the more I punish them, the more they bleed, the more it hurts.  They all just cry and safeword out.  And if they do take it for a while, they still don’t make the noises that you do.  I have to get another taste.  Just tell me where to find you—I’ll come to you.  We can work this out.  I know you can’t have found someone else who will give you the ecstatic, intense pain that you need.  I can make you weep with joy from the pain.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_January 24  10:21 AM_

I need to see you bleeding for me.  Hear you scream.  Hear you beg me for more.  I can’t sleep.  All I see is you, bleeding and dripping wet for me.  All I hear is you groaning and pleading for me to give you what you need.  You are the only canvas I can use.  There is no one else.  I can’t wait like this.  I can’t.  I need.  Your skin.  You have to give it to me.  I have to tear it.  To cut it.  To see it red and weeping.  Anything.  Just tell me.  Anything.  I promise.

 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  BadCompany13_

_January 27  04:53 AM_

Please.  I’m not..I can’t. I   We.  It’s the art.  Of us.  You have to see that.  Desire is pain is blood and screaming is depth and wholeness.  I know you understand.  You’re the only one who knows that agony is how we meet God.  Please.  Oh fuck, please.  I need       You           Father won’t    just let    Time is going it’s taking me with it and we have to stop it and your pain is my cure my healing my wellness my perfect offering.  Please just let’s meet we can talk and you’ll understand because you are part of this you are the same you know the ecstasy and the joy and I know how to bring them to you and together

 

 _Holy shit.  Meg Masters was fucking unhinged._   She obviously wasn’t the man who assaulted Dean but she was batshit crazy and obsessed with him.  And her last message to Dean was the night before she committed suicide. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry the formatting is a bit odd this chapter. I struggled with it and ended up with awkward but hopefully clear and understandable. :)
> 
> Thanks again SO MUCH to everyone who reads, kudos, bookmarks, subscribes and especially comments. It is so amazing to get the feedback and see that people are involved in this story. I had no idea I would get as involved as I have--I am so caught up in this and want so much for this particular version of Cas and of Dean. And I'm super glad it's working for some of you guys, too!!!! Love love love xxxxx


	25. Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean's first night sleeping together; Benny calls Dean for some follow-up on Meg. There is some talk about S/M details of Meg and Dean's encounter, but for anyone reading this fic this much, I'm not sure it really needs a special warning exactly. It's not detailed and is all consensual.

Cas and Dean pulled into Cas’s driveway at about 11:00 that night.  Dean was exhausted, but in the best way possible and Cas was floating on air.  As he pulled Dean’s crutches from the back seat and watched Dean heading to the front door he thought it had probably been one of the best days of his life.  Dean sitting in the car seat next to him, singing to his music, one arm out the window and his fingers tapping on the car hood in time to the beat—it was breathtaking.  Cas was surprised how tired he was himself from doing almost nothing but sitting, but he knew that emotions, even good ones, could be just as taxing as physical exertion.  He was looking forward to getting into his bed.  _Oh god, getting into bed!  With Dean!_   Cas’s pulse flew into overdrive.  _I, shit, I haven’t changed the sheets or washed the comforter.  I better shower before bed.  Dean’s probably used to the pillows in his room now, so I can grab those and bring them to mine.  Damn, there’s that one little gap in the blinds that sometimes lets the light in the morning and it could fall in his eyes.  Maybe I can find something to block that with.  I wonder which side Dean prefers—maybe I can sleep on the side where—_

“Cas?”

Cas looked up and saw Dean standing on the front porch looking at him with his eyebrows raised.

 _Oh shit._   He hurried up to the door and as he was unlocking it, Dean touched his elbow and said, “Are you alright?”

Cas opened the door and stepped aside to allow Dean in.  “Yes, I’m fine.  I was just…distracted for a moment.”

Dean shrugged and stepped in.  Cas watched him head straight upstairs to his own room and then rushed up to the master bedroom and started pulling the bedding off and throwing it in the hamper.  A few minutes later, he was just finishing putting the pillowcases on the pillows when Dean came and stood in the doorway, watching.  “You didn’t have to do that just for me, Cas.”  He was wearing lounging pants and a clean white t-shirt that hugged the muscles of his chest suggestively.  Suddenly Cas’s mouth felt very dry.

“Um…well, it was time.”  _Fuck.  I’m staring at his abs._   Cas pulled his eyes up to meet Dean’s, which were twinkling with amusement.  He licked his lips.  “I guess I should…uh…take a shower before bed.”  He stood by the bed awkwardly for a minute then went to his dresser and started digging through his drawers to find some clean pajamas.  He hadn’t heard Dean move, but suddenly Dean was behind him with a warm hand on his shoulder.  He squeezed Cas’s shoulder gently and said, “Cas, look at me.”

He turned and fell immediately into the well of Dean’s deep green eyes.

“You don’t need to shower—just get dressed and let’s get some sleep.  Okay?”  Cas nodded.  He felt a little entranced—as if Dean could instruct him to do anything right now and it would sound not just reasonable, but perfect.  “Cas, there’s nothing to be nervous about.  It’s just us.”

 _Right.  Just Dean.  In my bed.  Maybe in my arms.  All night long._   He swallowed hard and managed to choke out, “Of course, Dean.  You’re right.”  He was going to drown in Dean’s eyes.  He closed his own and turned around, back to the dresser drawer.  He opened his eyes and felt a bit more stable.

Dean let go of him and he heard him step away and over toward the bed.  He managed to grab something to wear and slipped into the bathroom.  Shutting the door, he stared at himself in the mirror.  _For Christ’s sake, Castiel, get it together.  This is nothing.  Dean made it very clear—it’s just closer proximity so we can both sleep easier._   He took a couple deep breaths and reached for his toothbrush.  _Yeah, right, sure.  It’s no big deal at all.  Just the man of my dreams two inches away from me, warm and comfortable and so fucking hot.  Yep.  No big deal._

When Cas stepped out of the bathroom, Dean was already laying in bed, his arms up with his hands behind his head, eyes closed, though he was almost certainly not asleep yet.  Cas soaked in the view.  Dean looked healthy and strong again, and this position accentuated the muscles in his arms and pecs.  His t-shirt was riding up and Cas could see the bottom edges of his abdominal cuts again, though more were light pink than red now.  He again felt an urge to press his lips to them, as if a bit of worshipful attention could somehow heal Dean’s suffering.  He stepped around to his side of the bed, slid under the covers and turned out the lamp.  He lay there for a moment uncertain whether he should reach out to Dean or if he would want to fall asleep untouched.  In the wake of the light it was momentarily too dark to see him, but he could scent Dean next to him smelling content and relaxed, with a slight touch of pain which seemed likely to be just the result of the long hours in the car working on his still healing body.

Before Cas could reach any decision, he heard Dean rustle next to him and could see enough of his outline to know he had rolled over to face Cas.  “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”  Cas rolled to his side to face Dean.  He could see his face now and stared at Dean’s soft, full lips.

“Remember at the hospital when you let me scent you?”

“Yes, of course.”  _I remember both times.  I dreamt about it twice, too.  And in the morning when I wake up sometimes I imagine how your body felt pressed to mine, the rhythm of your heartbeat against mine, your warm breath on my neck…._

“Maybe we could do that now?”

“Oh yes, Dean, I would like—I mean you are—”  Cas took a deep breath.  Why couldn’t he ever keep his cool when Dean asked him for what certainly must have seemed to Dean like such a small thing?  He heard Dean’s voice earlier saying ‘It’s just us’.  _Whatever the fuck that meant.  As if Dean could ever be_ just _anything._  “Sorry.  I’m just…I don’t know why I…I mean, this shouldn’t be…”

He was still struggling and spitting out a nonsensical string of words when Dean scooted over into his space.  Cas stopped speaking as Dean reach out his good arm to press against Cas’s far shoulder, tipping him onto his back, and then tugged Cas’s other arm up so he could fit himself under it against Cas’s side.  He pressed in tight to Cas’s side, one leg laying on top of Cas’s leg, and pressed his face into Cas’s neck.  Cas felt more than heard him inhale deeply, then a second or two later, exhale warm breath into his neck.  Cas closed his eyes and wrapped the arm Dean was laying on around Dean’s back and waist.  He could feel the thin ridges of Dean’s cuts underneath the tips of his fingers where they curled around Dean’s side, so he made sure his hand was resting loosely on Dean’s t-shirt rather than clutching Dean tightly to him the way he wished to.

Dean was breathing Cas in deeply, as he had that first time at the hospital, and Dean’s own scents were rising up in turn even more strongly around Cas, immersing him in a cloud of automotive-jasmine-cinnamon-spring rain-lavender.  Cas let himself drift, enjoying the heat of Dean tucked against his side, all strong muscle and power and vulnerability.  One part of him was already indulging in idle fantasy—what it would be like to roll over on top of Dean and press him to the mattress, to kiss his soft lips, to slide his tongue across Dean’s adam’s apple and taste his own perfect mix of skin and sweat and soap and whatever else Cas might find there.  But they were idle thoughts, just drifting in the back of his mind like a TV left playing in the living room but ignored in favor of more interesting activities.  More present was that warm heat of Dean and that intoxicating scent of Dean and that sense of how strong and healthy Dean was becoming.

Dean was still inhaling deeply and occasionally Cas thought he detected a quiet hum when he exhaled.  Each time that happened Cas’s stomach flipped and he could feel his own muscles relax a bit further into the bed.  He wanted to stay awake long enough to be sure that Dean feel asleep, but he was starting to lose the battle as he felt himself falling and falling into a sleep that was made up entirely of Dean’s smile, his eyes, his arms, his shoulders, his walk, his…

*             *             *

Dean opened his eyes and could tell it was later in the morning than he usually woke from the stream of light that was peaking through a broken blind in Cas’s room.  _Cas’s room.  Cas’s bed.  Cas._   Dean was sprawled almost entirely on top of the alpha, who was on his back, lightly snoring, head turned to the other side, hair sticking up in all directions as usual—or perhaps even more than usual.  Dean was laying half on top of one side of Cas’s body, his leg thrown across Cas’s other side.  He thanked God silently that he didn’t have a bad case of morning wood, and he gently extricated himself from the alpha.  Thankfully, Cas didn’t move or show any other sign of disturbance and Dean sat up in bed, stretching his arm.  _Oh yah, this was definitely a good idea._   Dean felt better than he had in weeks.  If it wasn’t for the twinges of pain occasionally from his broken toes, he would have said he felt better than he had in years.  The last relationship he’d had with an alpha that involved more than just sex was almost 8 years ago, and he’d forgotten how good it was to sleep wrapped up in that scent and that feeling of security, safety and affection. 

Fifteen minutes later he was enjoying his first cup of coffee when his phone rang.  It was Benny.

“Hey, Detective.”

“Dean.  How are you feeling?”

“Really good.  Got to take a drive yesterday and get out of this house for a while and slept like a baby last night.  So I can’t really complain.”

“Good to hear, Brother.  Listen, I need to ask you a few questions.”

 “Okay, do you need me to come in?”

“No, it won’t take long.  Phone is fine at least for what I’ve got right now.”

“Alright, shoot.”  He pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Do you recognize the name Meg Masters?”

Dean could feel his shoulders tighten and his mouth curl a bit in distaste.  “Benny, you know we’re looking for a guy, right?”

Benny surprised Dean by chuckling lightly.  “Yes, Dean.  I know that it was a man who physically attacked you.  And we suspect killed two other people.  Though, keep in mind, I don’t have any eye witnesses for those two crimes, so for all we know a female may have been present.  But more to the point, I have to follow the trail wherever it leads me and right now it’s to Ms. Masters.  So, do you know her?”

“Yah, I knew her.  Not well.”

“Tell me about that.”

“Somehow I’m guessing you already know.”

“Dean, I need to hear it from your perspective.  With the details and your impressions.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit of tightness he hadn’t realized was there before.  “Okay.  Well, we chatted on SpankBank, she said she was a sadist and we seemed like maybe a good fit, so we met up at a diner to meet in person and then we met once for a scene after that.  That’s it.”

Dean could practically hear Benny’s exasperated sigh over the phone.  “Dean, would you rather come in to talk about this?  Are you uncomfortable there?  Is Castiel around?”

“No, Cas is upstairs.  It isn’t being here that makes me uncomfortable, man.  How’m I supposed to talk to you about…this stuff?”

“Dean, you’re supposed to talk to me about this so you can help me catch a fucking psycho killer who tortured you and killed at least two other people.”  His voice gentled a bit then.  “You’re supposed to talk to me so we can make sure no one else suffers like you did.  You’re supposed to talk to me because I barely know you and I can already tell you’re basically the strongest omega—fuck, maybe strongest person—I’ve ever met.  If you’re open with me, even though it’s so hard it makes you want to tear your hair out—and I know it is, Dean—if you talk to me about ‘this stuff’ I promise you that I will figure this thing out whatever it takes and I will make sure this guy pays for what he did to you.”

Dean was taken aback by the length and vehemence of Benny’s reply and momentarily had no idea how to respond.

“Fair enough, Dean?”

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, so tell me about Meg Masters.”

Just then Cas padded into the kitchen in his pajama bottoms, t-shirt and bare feet.  To Dean he looked like sex on a stick.  For a moment he felt his cock twitch with interest then Cas raised his eyebrow at the phone in Dean’s hand and Dean remembered who he was talking to and what he was talking about.  No better hard-on killer than that.

“Dean?”  It was Benny.

“Sorry, Benny.  Sorry.  I was just distracted for a second.”

At Benny’s name, Cas had stopped moving halfway to the coffee pot.  He looked like a mannequin, holding his mug slightly outstretched, paused in midstride not quite all the way to the counter.  Dean saw him mouth and gesture something that looked like a question about whether he should leave.  _Yes._   Cas definitely could not hear about Meg.  About Dean’s…  _Perversion!_ his mind supplied helpfully.  Dean could feel a twinge of panic rise in his gut, but he tamped it down, shook his head at Cas and instead he rose and headed down to Cas’s office, saying, “Just a minute, Benny” into the phone. 

When he had the door shut he said, “Okay, where were we?”

“You were going to tell me about your experience with Meg Masters.”

“Yeah, right.  Okay, well, she seemed pretty cool when we met at the diner.  Just a tiny little thing, pretty.  And her eyes lit up with a kind of fiery excitement when she talked about what we could do together.  She seemed like she was into pretty rough stuff—inflicting kind of heavy pain—but that was a good thing.  That was what I was looking for.”  He paused for a moment, unsure how much Benny had dug around in his records and had figured out about him.  But he knew Benny must see crap so much worse than anything Dean was into and it probably didn’t even matter if he did think Dean was a sick pervert.  It was pretty damn clear at this point that he was gonna work hard to find the freak that attacked him and killed those other people, and Dean wasn’t going to let his own shame and embarrassment keep him from helping.  “So I think we met up maybe on a Tuesday night?  Or a Wednesday?  This was sometime last year in the late spring or early summer.  We hit it off pretty well and agreed to meet up for a scene on that Saturday night.”

“We met at a club she knew over in Columbia.  I hadn’t been there before, but I’d heard about it from other people who were into the same stuff.  One of those cheesy names like ‘Hell’s Portal’ or some shit.  But it turned out it was pretty great inside.  They had a bouncer who took your name and your safeword, alarm buttons on the walls in each room in case you panicked, and really nice clean shower and clean-up facilities.  Like better than the best gym locker room I’ve ever seen.  Anyway, we had a pretty good time.  She really was cute and she knew her way around ropes and floggers and whips like you wouldn’t believe.”  _Fuck, does he think I’m crazy?  Or just a sick weakling?_   He was feeling a bit nauseated now and leaned forward to put his head in his hands.

“So it was all good for you?”

Dean realized he’d been silent for a minute or so.  “Uh…yeah, I mean, yeah, it was really great.  She was into it and she…we…   Um, it was cool, I guess.”

“It’s okay, Dean.  I know it’s uncomfortable, but you can do this, Brother.”  Dean had no idea why he liked Benny using that nickname so much, but it did make him feel like they were a team—like Dean could really make a difference.

“Well, um, I’m guessing you’ve never flogged anyone or whipped them before.”  It was almost a question.  It wasn’t likely Benny was into such things especially with what he dealt with all day—probably he wanted to get away from the violence.  But you never knew.

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Well there’s a real skill to it.  You can’t just pick up a tool the first time and swing it at someone.  The biggest risk is that you’ll hurt them too bad.  But if you don’t put some force into it they won’t get anything out of it at all.  So you really have to know your tools and practice to get control over exactly how much pain or damage you’re inflicting—to reach that perfect point of exactly what your subject wants to feel—the level that really gets them off.  So honestly, most people are only passable at it anyway.  And for me, I…I like it pretty…um, intense?  You might think most people who are into hitting other people are serious sadists who really want to hurt people, but that isn’t what it seems like to me.  Most people can’t really handle doing it the way I really want.  But Meg, she was a real demon for pain.  She really knew how to inflict it.  I was pretty impressed actually and at first I thought we were going to be a perfect fit and maybe get to have an ongoing thing for a while.”

“So anyway, she tied me up, gagged me, blindfolded me and then went at me first with floggers and then eventually the whip.  I was totally into it—it was amazing.  And she was into it too, I could tell by the way she was breathing and how her voice sounded when she talked.  She got me to…I actually…well, just…I was hot and after I…after the whipping we engaged in some…we…”

“Dean, man, just say it.”

“Sorry.  After I came, I gave her head until she came and then that’s when it sort of got weird for me.  She had me lay on my stomach on the floor so she could admire the marks she’d made on my back.  That’s actually kind of typical—no big deal.  At first she was talking to me a bit, also kind of regular stuff, just praising how good it looked and shit, but she sort of started to drift a little bit or something?  It’s hard to describe, but at one point she lay down next to me and she was running her fingers up and down my back, just grazing the tears and cuts she’d made…which was starting to hurt like a bitch and not in the good way anymore…and she was mumbling to herself and it definitely wasn’t really aimed at me I don’t think.”  
“What kind of things was she saying?”

“Well, it was stuff like how some guy would be so proud of her or something.”  
“Can you think of any of the exact words she used?”

“She was saying some name, I can’t remember what it was, something kind of weird, not a regular Joe or Bill kind of name.  And then ‘I know you would be so proud of me for this one.  He’s so beautiful with my marks on his skin.’  I think she said something like ‘He will be my tribute to you and everything you’ve taught me.’  And the weirdest thing was something about how after my skin was covered in her ‘art’ she was going to ‘paint my soul’ to match it.  It was just really creepy and honestly I was fucking weirded out.  I was gagged so I couldn’t really ask her if she was okay or get her attention that way.  I wasn’t tied up anymore except my hands just to each other so I could have gotten up and hit a panic button, but it wasn’t really like I was in immediate danger.  So anyway, I sort of wiggled around like I was uncomfortable enough that it shook her out of it and she was normal again after that—totally perky and definitely interested in doing it again some other time.  But I wasn’t really sure anymore—she had been so good that I was still tempted, and we had a nice safe place to meet that wasn’t my house or her house or anything, so I was thinking about it, but the weird thing at the end gave me a strange feeling so I just told her we would be in touch without committing to anything.”

“So what happened after that?”

“Well, then she pissed me off.  She let out in email, I think a few days later, that she had taken pictures of me when I was laying there.  But she hadn’t asked me to do that and hadn’t told me after either.  It was…it just isn’t cool.  It isn’t the way you’re supposed to do it.  Some people have a lot to lose with families or jobs or just whatever and you don’t want that kind of thing getting out in the world.  It isn’t supposed to happen without permission.  It freaked me out.  None of my family knows I’m into that and I don’t want ‘em to.  And if she’d break that rule, who knows what other rules she’d break, you know?  It’s just a hard thing to give your trust to someone like that, and it’s kind of impossible to do it if you don’t know they have the same code that you do.”

“Makes sense.  So what did you do?”

“I told her it was out of line and I wasn’t interested in seeing her again.”

“Was that the end of it?”

“Nope.  Within a few weeks I realized I’d done the right thing ‘cuz she sort of e-stalked me after that.  She seemed kind of obsessed—emailing me a lot.  Sometimes apologizing and asking me to give her another chance, sometimes kind of indignant like I was overreacting.  Then after a while sounding kind of crazy.  Eventually I blocked her email address so I didn’t have to see them anymore.  She didn’t have my real name or any email address that was attached to my home address or personal info. so other than messaging on SpankBank and emailing me there wasn’t really anything she could do.”

“When was the last time you heard from her?”

“I don’t really know.  I think I blocked her emails maybe in the fall sometime?  So she could have written to me after that.  I just didn’t see them anymore.  For all I know she wrote me yesterday.”

“And you can’t remember the name of the man she mentioned?”

“Nah, I don’t know, I wasn’t really in a condition for taking notes, you know.”  
“I know, Dean, but it might be important.  Try.”

“What are you saying Benny?  You think Meg or this guy are connected to the killer?  Can’t you just interview her?”  There was a long pause from the other end of the line.  “Benny?”

“Yah, I’m here.  I just…I can’t interview her because she died in January.”

“Oh.  Shit.”

They were both quiet for a minute.  Then Benny’s voice came over the line saying, “So can you try to remember it?”

“Oh, yeah.  Um…okay…like I said it was an odd name.  Like the kind you’ve heard before but no one actually uses in real life?  Like something from old books like weird religious-y kinds…umm….  Maybe it started with an A.  Like Alexander but weirder.  Maybe like a greek god name like Apollo or Artemis.  I don’t know, man.  I think that’s the best I can do.”

“Okay, that’s fine, Dean.  If it comes to you or you remember anything else, give me a call.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

Dean hung up and sat in Cas’s office for a minute thinking about the call.  Meg was dead.  Meg had died in January.  Shit, he hadn’t even thought to ask Benny what happened to her.  Was she another possible victim?  But she was an alpha.  Even though she was tiny, she was plenty strong.  Dean hadn’t really been very interested in the case before, so he guessed he hadn’t really tried to get a lot of detail from Benny on the other victims, but he’d thought they’d been omegas or betas and kind of into the masochism side of things like him.  Where did he get that idea?  Benny didn’t really say that straight out, did he?  Regardless how creepy Meg had been in the end it didn’t mean she deserved to be tortured or killed that way.  But maybe that’s not what it was.  Maybe she had just died some other way and Benny was really interested in the guy he was asking about.  But Dean never met the man, so why would it have to do with his attack? 

His stomach growled and Dean realized he was smelling bacon cooking in the kitchen.  _God bless Cas!_


	26. Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean visits the counselor again; Cas tries to help. WARNING FOR: Brief physical violence, breathplay/painplay.

Cas waited for Dean in the parking lot of his counselor’s office.  He should be coming out any minute, so Cas had timed his trip to the grocery store well and he looked forward to getting home and firing up the grill so he could make Dean dinner for a change.  He had bought some ribeye steaks that looked delicious and he knew Dean would appreciate.  Cas leaned back a bit and rolled down his window, enjoying the spring day.  The parking lot was a small one, so there were only a few cars, a couple of them off in the corner that likely belonged to the practice employees.  Oh, except that someone else was apparently waiting to pick someone up as Cas was, since there was a man in the driver’s seat of one of those vehicles gazing intently at the building door.  Cas wondered idly who he was waiting for – a child?  A wife? 

Cas looked up at the blossoms in the pear tree on his left and smiled as he watched a squirrel scampering up the trunk.  It was hard to be anything but happy on a day like this with the prospect of another evening with Dean in front of him.  Not that he wanted to do anything other than enjoy every single second he could with the omega.  He glanced to his right and thought he saw the man suddenly turn his head, as if he had been watching Castiel and didn’t want to be caught.  But now he was simply staring at the practice door again, which swung open just then, revealing Dean’s crutches swinging out onto the step.  Cas jumped from his car to open the door for Dean and take his crutches, and they settled in.  Dean didn’t say a word, just leaned over to turn the radio up and Cas knew better than to pry, so just started the car and backed out.  As they pulled out of the parking lot past the waiting man’s car, Cas realized he wasn’t staring at the door anymore, he was staring intently right at them.  Not at them…at Dean.  Then they were in traffic and Cas was shaking himself back to reality.  The man had almost certainly not been staring at Dean, but glancing at him as anyone would given Dean’s striking good looks.  He wasn’t following them and hadn’t acted in any way other than like someone who was sitting in a parking lot waiting for someone.  Just as Cas had been.  Cas almost laughed out loud at himself and his own paranoia when he realized if that man was acting suspiciously then Cas himself would have to be under suspicion, too.  Because Cas was certainly waiting around in a parking lot staring at other people and waiting for Dean then unable to take his eyes off the omega.  Christ, Cas couldn’t take his mind off Dean anymore for more than a minute at a time without feeling an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

His mind back on Dean, Cas looked over at Dean who was staring out the window.  He looked tired and he smelled vaguely of salt, compost and sulfur, things Cas hadn’t noticed coming from him in the last few days.

“I got us a couple steaks.  Thought I would grill out tonight.”  He tried to sound casual.  As much as he wanted to remove all of Dean’s pain, he knew he couldn’t and that this was going to be a long, difficult process for Dean and that it was best and healthiest for Dean to actually live and struggle through it. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Dean said to the window.

They drove the rest of the way in silence and when they got home Dean went straight to his room and shut the door.  He didn’t come out until Cas called him for dinner, and they sat out on the deck quietly eating steak and drinking beer together.

Cas couldn’t think of any conversation to distract Dean with.  Everything he thought of felt stilted and odd.  He felt like his dynamic with Dean was uniquely genuine—they never made “small talk” or forced conversation.  Usually the silences were comfortable or when they were talking it was either something very real and serious or just something one of them was animated about right then.  He smiled to himself as he thought about the various classic rock and action movie lectures Dean had given him lately.  He could talk about his book deadline, ask about Sam or Bobby, maybe try to get Dean to tell him some stories about his life.  But it all felt weird and forced and somehow like it would be trying to make Dean perform to make himself feel better.

When they finished eating and both leaned back from their plates, Dean with his second beer in his hand, Cas finally ventured, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean looked up from his beer.  He seemed to consider Cas’s offer for a minute.  “I…don’t know.”

Cas waited.

“I sure as fuck can’t stop thinking about it, but I don’t think that talking about it is helping either.”

“With your counselor?”

“Yeah.  All we do is talk, what like 4 fucking times now, and I get miserable and it doesn’t change any fucking thing.”

When Dean didn’t add anything further after a minute, Cas asked, “Do you like the counselor?”

Dean surprised Cas by reacting with a light chuckle.  “Yeah.  He’s sort of weird.  His name is Fergus.  Who the hell names someone Fergus?”

Cas smiled.  “Must be Scottish.  Or Irish.”

“Oh yah, he definitely has the accent.  But I like him.  He’s not…like I expected.  Not…proper, I guess.”

“What’s he like?”

“It’s hard to describe, but he just isn’t all polite and he talks like a regular person but a really sort of sarcastic one.”

“Well that sounds easy to talk to.”

“Yeah, I guess he kind of is.  You feel like he’s heard worse or maybe done worse than anything you could have to tell.  He definitely never seems shocked.”

After Dean was quiet again for a bit, Cas said, “But you don’t think it’s going well?”

Dean ran his hand through his hair and set his empty bottle down on the table.  Cas went in to the kitchen and grabbed two more from the fridge, opening them and setting one in front of Dean.

“I guess I just wonder where it’s supposed to even be going.”

“That sounds like a reasonable question for Fergus.  I bet lots of people feel that way.”

“He’ll probably just ask me where I want it to go.”

“That does seem likely.”  And since Dean hadn’t shut him down yet, he decided to risk the obvious question.  “Where _do_ you want it to go?”

Dean laughed.  “I don’t.  I just want my normal life back.  But I can’t have that while some killer is out there who may have a particular grudge against me.  Counseling is just because Dr. Mills was so goddamn pushy.”

Cas’s heart broke in three.  It broke for Dean and for himself.  Dean just wanted his life back.  He just wanted to get out of Cas’s house and back to his own house and go back to work and his friends and family and his one night stands and whatever else he did before…this.  And of course that’s what he wanted.  It’s what he should want.

They sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts and eventually went inside and watched a few nature shows before heading up to bed.  This time it wasn’t awkward, they just did their routines and got in bed quietly, with Dean snuggling up to Cas as soon as he turned the light out.  Cas lay awake for quite a while after Dean fell asleep, listening to Dean breathing.  All evening, Dean’s scent had retained that touch of sulfur and something rotten.  Cas’s mind kept circling back through all the times he had scented disgust, shame or self-hatred from Dean these few weeks.  It had started from the beginning when he first found Dean and felt his heart crumble at seeing Dean so damaged and broken on the floor.  It was almost overwhelmingly strong after Dean’s worst nightmares and when they had visited Dean’s house and Dean had broken down in his bedroom. 

Cas remembered Dean curling up in a ball after one of the nightmares and talking about how he wasn’t good—was a sick person.  _Dean—why would Dean think he was somehow a bad person?  This felt…older than the attack.  Something deeper, perhaps something that had been bothering Dean for a very long time?_  He had thought at first it might be because of something his father had ground into him, but after hearing about John and meeting Bobby that didn’t seem to fit.  And Dean had shared some of what John Winchester had been like to him—how his father had been disgusted by his omega nature and rejected him.  That story would have been disastrously traumatizing coming from many people, and Dean clearly struggled with it somewhat, but he hadn’t smelled this way when he talked about that.  He hadn’t sensed from Dean the same kind of shame and self-hatred that he did so often.  Dean had been angry, indignant.  So Cas felt sure it was something else—but what?

And there were the odd moments here and there where he had gotten the same odor of disgust and shame from Dean.  Like when Dr. Mills had initially outlined Dean’s injuries—he had not really reacted at all to the reference to the sodomy that had been done to him—the injury that many men would find most shameful and difficult to face.  It was when she had talked about the cuts on his stomach that the sulfur and compost smells had risen up from Dean.  Why those cuts?  Out of all the horrible things this man had done to Dean?  Cas’s eyes drifted down toward Dean’s stomach, covered now by his t-shirt and the sheet.  It didn’t make any sense.  And there had been that time when he’d been massaging Dean and things had seemed to be going so well—Dean relaxing under his hands and even maybe becoming aroused.  Until Cas had pressed to hard and hurt Dean.  The sulfur and rotten cabbage smells had been sudden and intense.  He remembered standing outside the downstairs bathroom door, lost and confused and standing in that cloud of Dean’s shame and disgust.

Cas squeezed Dean’s body to his own and kissed the top of the omega’s head.  He inhaled and noted that the smells seemed to have gone away now, as he smelled only Dean and a bit of citrus and lilac.  But why did he always go back to those same negative feelings?  What was it really about?  He couldn’t really just be ashamed of having been tortured and abused, could he?  Why would that make Dean a sick “not good” person?  Dean had said “I didn’t want that…I wouldn’t ask for that.”  Had this man reminded him somehow of his father?  Something he had needed but not gotten from him?  That didn’t really fit.  Did Dean feel like something he did want led somehow to this man finding him and attacking him?  But Dean had no idea who the man had been or how he was connected to Dean or had fixated on Dean.  Cas had no doubt Dean was being honest about that.  So he hadn’t asked this man for something, but maybe in general he wanted something that his mind connected with his attack.  Maybe he felt that his sexual history meant he deserved to be abused?  But Dean didn’t really seem at all ashamed of his level of experience.  He had never tried to hide the fact that he sometimes slept around.  If anything, he seemed rather proud of it.

Cas thought again of that moment, standing outside the bathroom after hurting Dean without meaning to.  He would never forget that feeling—having caused Dean pain and hurt.  Seeing Dean jump off the couch and limp off in a crazy run toward the bathroom.  He could hear Dean’s groan of pain when he had dug his thumb into the muscle of Dean’s upper back.  He saw Dean’s head drop back as he moaned in pain.  He had moaned.  He hadn’t shouted.  He had moaned.  He had looked like Cas had fantasized he would when he came—head dropping back, eyes closed, his voice low and wordless.  Cas hadn’t hurt Dean—well, maybe he had hurt him, but Dean had been turned on.  He remembered now the strong smell of sandalwood mixed in with the others.  He had been aroused before and when Cas dug in hard, it had made him…  _Fuck, was that it?_  

Cas stroked Dean’s side gently with his fingers and tucked his nose into Dean’s hair, inhaling deeply again.  _God, Dean smelled amazing._   Cas closed his eyes and finally fell sleep.

*             *             *

Someone was whining.  _What was that?_   It kicked him.  Dean.  _Dean!_   Cas lurched awake and Dean was…Christ, he was whimpering and curled in a tight ball except the leg that had kicked Cas was still outstretched.  The room was filled with vinegar, sulfur and rotten cabbage.  A brief flash of worry for Dean’s toes slipped over Cas’s mind even as he was reaching out to Dean to try to pull him close.  Dean flinched and tugged away, a distressed whimpering noise in his throat.   Cas pulled his hand back and thought he heard Dean say something.  He leaned in and held his breath and he could hear Dean mumbling in his sleep.  “No…please…stop…that isn’t what I…”  He couldn’t understand any more, so he got as close to Dean’s ear as he could without touching the distressed omega and started quietly talking to Dean, “Shhh, Dean, it’s Castiel.  I’m here.  You’re safe in my house.  No one is going to hurt you.  Shhhh.  It’s okay.  You’re safe.”  He reached out with this other hand, still partially underneath Dean and lightly petted Dean’s hair at the same time.  He tried to very gently scoot closer to Dean and kept up his litany of nonsensical chatter about Dean’s safety.  Dean stayed tightly curled in a ball, but he was squirming less and Cas reached out his hand while saying, “Dean, it’s Castiel, and I’m going to touch you now.  It’s just me.  No one else is here and no one else is going to touch you.”  He lightly touched Dean’s arm and when Dean didn’t’ flinch, slid his hand around to Dean’s back, lightly stroking his back and returning to his Castiel-safe-home babbling. 

After another minute or two, Dean suddenly threw his body forward into Castiel’s, burying his face in Cas’s chest and clinging tightly to him.  Cas could feel wet tears as Dean shook with sobs.  Cas felt like a stopper had just been pulled out from somewhere deep in his chest and everything good was leaking out of him as he held Dean.  _How can I help him understand?  How can I get him to see what I see?  Why does he sound so alone when he has support like his surrogate father and his brother?_   There was no answer.  Cas had no answer.  He had read two and a half stupid books so far about supporting a post-traumatic omega and he was still entirely out of his depth.  He shushed and he babbled and he petted and he stroked.  There was nothing else to be done.  Fuck what any books said.  One of them had actually said not to try to comfort a trauma victim post-nightmare.  Had said to leave them alone to work through the trauma alone.  That it was the only way they would regain strength.  Cas wanted to punch that person once for each omega whose support-partner had ever followed that advice.  Cas ignored the advice and returned to his original instincts to what he had done and wanted to do since the first moment he found Dean.  He crooned and he hugged and he focused on his own scent— _proud alpha-security-comfort_.    

“Shhh, Dean, it’s okay.  I’m here.  You’re safe in my room.  No one is going to hurt you here,” Cas whispered softly to Dean, petting his hair gently in light, rhythmic strokes.  Slowly Dean’s muscles started to loosen and he relaxed into the bed and Cas.  He continued to cling to Cas tightly, pressing his entire body close against Cas’s side, one leg thrown fully across Cas’s legs, his head still buried in Cas’s chest. “Yes, Dean, that’s it.  You’re doing so good.  You’re safe.  I’m here.  You’re going to be okay, Dean.  You are so strong, so beautiful.”  Dean was breathing evenly now and if he was crying it was not in the same ragged, violent sobs.  “Shhh, it’s okay now.”  Cas kept up his murmuring and petting, working on pushing out his _proud-alpha-safe-calm_ scent to envelope Dean.  Dean’s own scent was settling a bit, the vinegar odor of fear easing off almost entirely, though the compost and sulfur notes remained in the air around him, and he continued to cling tightly to Cas.

“That’s so good, Dean, you’re doing so good.  You are so brave and honorable.”  Cas felt a shiver run through Dean and held him tightly for a moment before resuming his petting and whispering.  “You are the finest person I know, Dean.  You are tenacious and daring, and so decent and good.  Dean sobbed harshly at that, and Cas heard a murmured, “No, Cas.  I’m not a good man.  You don’t know.”

“I do know, Dean,” Cas said firmly, though still petting Dean with smooth, soft strokes and pushing out his proud alpha scent as much as he could.  “I do know.  I see you, Dean.  You are strong and brave and loyal and kind.  You are funny and sarcastic but never cruel or biting.  I’ve seen you with people, friends visiting you in your yard and driveway, with strangers and caregivers at the hospital, and now with your…Bobby.  You are warm and giving, always striving to make those around you feel comfortable and welcome and appreciated.  And all of this when you had every reason, every right, to be focused on yourself or swallowed in sadness.”  He held Dean tightly and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Cas, I—”  Dean’s voice dropped off.

Cas waited a moment then said, “Yes, Dean?  Whatever it is, I’m here.”

“No, but see, you wouldn’t be if you knew.”  Dean’s head was still tucked into Cas’s chest and his voice was shaky and muffled.

“If I knew what?”

“I’m just…  I’m not a good person, Cas.  I want…  I’m sick, Cas.”

“You’re not sick, Dean.  What do you want?” 

“I want...  It doesn’t matter.”  The sulfur smell was back, more strongly now as Dean’s thoughts were overwhelmed by whatever he thought was so sick and wrong with him. 

“But you are so much more than your attacker thinks—so much more than _you_ think.”  Cas had something he thought might help Dean—help him not feel so alone, so sick and different.  But if Cas was wrong it could also repel Dean—make him run as fast and far away from Cas as he could.  But now Cas had Bobby to call on and knew Dean would have a safe place to go.  So he had to try.

“We haven’t talked much about me or my family,” Cas started.  His voice was rough and scratchy, and he knew it betrayed that he was not as cool and calm about this topic as he wanted to be.  He cleared his throat.  “It’s because we’re not close.  Well, I get along well enough with one of my brothers, I suppose, and my sister.  But I actually have six other brothers.  We don’t have a lot in common and I have chosen not to follow their path.  But it was difficult to accept that the things I wanted out of life—the things I desired—were as worthy as anything my brothers were seeking.”  Dean didn’t react, but Cas could tell he was awake and listening. 

“One day after school…I was maybe twelve years old.  I hadn’t presented yet and I was sort of a small boy.  Everyone expected me to be an omega or possibly a beta.  Never an alpha.”  He rubbed Dean’s back in slow, smooth circles.  “I was picking flowers for my mother when this older alpha boy started bothering me.  At first I was excited he was talking to me because it was Rafael—he was big and strong, everyone admired him.  And I didn’t just admire him like the other boys did, I… _admired_ him.  I was sexually attracted to him.  I had secretly taken pleasure with myself to thoughts of him, strange thoughts I couldn’t really understand.  I had…  Well, the sexual visions I had involving Rafael weren’t entirely… ‘vanilla’?”  Cas was unsure how much he should say, wanting Dean to understand but not distract with specifics that might detract from his goal.  He felt Dean nod slightly, so he took that as enough and plunged on.

“Of course, Rafael wasn’t interested in me.  He simply saw an easy target to make his day a little less boring.  He started to tease me about the flowers, calling me feminine and weak, and when I tried to leave, his names became more offensive and he started to physically shove and push me around.  I called for my brother Gabriel who I knew was somewhere nearby, but that irritated Rafael and he started punching me.  When Gabriel finally arrived and pulled Rafael off me, I was in bad shape.  I could barely see, my nose was broken and bleeding and I was so weak and dizzy I could barely walk even with Gabriel’s help.  When we got home, my father was there and I’d never seen him so angry.  But he wasn’t angry with Rafael.  It was me who had done wrong in his eyes.  By being weak and allowing myself to be injured.  He yelled and ranted and slammed things about the house for almost an hour, shouting about how ashamed he was to have such a weak, pathetic excuse for a son.  I heard my father telling my mother later that night how he knew he was right about me because he had scented my shame.”

Caught up in his own story, Cas realized he was squeezing Dean’s body against his own tightly, and afraid he was putting pressure on Dean’s healing ribs, he relaxed his hold and returned to rubbing Dean’s back lightly.  “And he was right—I had felt ashamed.  I have no doubt I was stinking of it because I was so ashamed and guilty that I ran to my room later and vomited from the sickness and weight of it.  But I wasn’t ashamed of being weak or small or being beaten by a larger, more aggressive boy.  I was ashamed of the sexual fantasies I had had.”  He paused.  Licked his lips.  He had to do this.  “Of their specific nature.”

Cas stopped, and there was silence for a couple minutes.  Then Cas heard Dean state quietly, “Your dad was wrong.  Just like mine.”

“Yes, he was.  They were.  But so was I.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Cas.  What are you talking about?”

“I was wrong to feel so ashamed.  Just because I wanted something.  I know that now—there should be no shame in wanting something.”

There was silence in the room and Cas listened to Dean’s even breathing and inhaled his scent, still tinged with hints of bitterness, but easing back to just Dean—his car, cinnamon, leather and jasmine. 

“What did…” Dean began, then swallowed roughly.  Cas could barely hear him.  “Do you…  What did you want to do with that boy?”

_Shit.  This was a shitty idea.  Why did I think this would help?  What if Dean just thinks it isn’t as bad as his own desires and he ignores it all or is even more ashamed?  Or what if it’s so much worse than whatever Dean wants?  What if Dean doesn’t feel safe with me anymore?  But how can I deny him this confidence when he has put so much faith in me?  Shared so much of himself?_

“I…I had pictured…”  _Get it together, Castiel.  Just remember that vision—that first amazing vision as a kid that really was the one.  The one that you jerked off to night after night after night.  It’s still beautiful.  Just imagine it and describe it.  For Dean._   “I had pictured Rafael…weak…weak with desire…desire for me…pinned beneath me…me straddling his chest…my knees pinning his arms down…my hands tightened around his neck…”  Cas was starting to breathe hard and he wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of one of his first dangerous fantasies, or the fear of Dean’s reaction to it.  “…I had imagined squeezing his throat until he couldn’t breathe and holding him there in that place of mixed trust and fear.  In my mind, Rafael loved it, wanted it as much as I did and he trusted me to make him feel good.  I guess because I was young, how exactly we got off wasn’t really the focus.  We were naked in my thoughts and I was rubbing our crotches together, but the vivid part, the thing I remember, the thing I wanted, was the mix of pain and pleasure in that other boy.  To see his eyes as he was in pain, hurting and still asking me for more.  To feel his trust and take him further and further…to take him closer to the edge than he had thought at first that he was willing to go.  I imagined choking him and releasing and choking and releasing until we both exploded.”

Dean was still pressed against Cas, his broken arm across Cas’s stomach, head resting on his chest.  He hadn’t pulled away, but he wasn’t speaking.  Cas waited and worried.  Then finally, he heard Dean’s voice again.

“Did you ever have fantasies like that again?”

“Oh God, yes!” Cas said, overly loud, just relieved Dean was still talking with him.  _Shit_. “I mean, yes, of course, Dean.  I have had and still have many thoughts of that nature, and on occasion I have explored them outside of fantasy as well.  And I have learned that there is nothing wrong with my desires—nothing shameful or in need of repair.  I am not broken, Dean.  And neither are you.”

Dean was quiet for several minutes and Cas wondered what he was thinking.  His scent was neutral now—just Dean, nothing else.  Nothing to help Cas know if he had helped Dean or just added to his confused state of mind.  But at least Dean didn’t seem bothered by Cas’s revelation or frightened of him, so he had not interpreted Cas’s sexual interests as a sign of a generally violent alpha.  So that was a relief.  They lay there together in the dark until finally, Dean said, “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I think I can sleep again if…you would hold me?”

“Of course, Dean,” he assured, though he wasn’t sure what Dean meant since he was already holding him, until Dean rolled over to his other side and backed up into Cas.  He smiled and turned to his side so he could curl up behind Dean and wrap his arm around Dean’s torso.  He pressed his face into Dean’s neck and kissed the skin lightly there, then breathing deeply of the scent of cinnamon-jasmine swelling up around him.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up; Sam calls; Benny finds something

Dean woke up to that little beam of sunlight through the broken blinds streaming in his eyes and the feeling of Cas’s warm body pressed up against his back.  _Ugh…I really need to fix that blind._ Cas’s arm was still draped over his side and curled around his midsection, holding Dean in a sort of cocoon.  He was a little embarrassed when he realized how much he loved the feeling of safety and security that an alpha’s bed and arms gave him.  _No!  It isn’t just an alpha.  It’s Cas.  Cas makes me feel safe.  Cas makes this bed feel like home._ He snuggled a bit more tightly back into Cas’s body and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply the amazing peppermint-fireplace-licorice scent of him.  He wished he could stay here forever.  He wished that his future could be waking up with Cas every morning and having Cas look at him with those big insanely blue eyes of his every night.  His mind flashed back to Cas’s story the night before and he almost groaned aloud with the painful knowledge of how this one last piece of the puzzle slid Cas solidly into the role of Dean’s dream man.  Now he was perfect.  In every way.  He wasn’t just smart, sweet, successful, handsome, generous, fun, and adorable.  He was also strong.  And at least a little bit of a sadist.  A vision of Cas’s fantasy about the boy, Rafael, flashed through Dean’s mind, except he was in Rafael’s place.  Cas was on top of him, pinning him down, hands at his throat, squeezing, grinding his dick into Dean’s. 

Dean’s hand unconsciously slid down into his pants and wrapped around his cock, which was already hard and throbbing with need.  The movement of his arm across Cas’s apparently disturbed him as Cas suddenly snuggled in tightly to Dean’s back, squeezing his arm around Dean tightly and murmuring into Dean’s neck, “Mmmm…you smell good.”  _Shit shit shit._   Dean was frozen with his hand down his pants and absolutely no idea what to do.  There was no way he was going to wriggle out of the bed without waking Cas fully and having him see Dean’s condition.  _Fuck!_   Dean let go of his cock, without moving his arm position and tried to will his hard-on away.  But his nose was filled with peppermint and licorice and his mind wouldn’t stop showing him Cas’s blue eyes staring at him, pupils large and dark with desire, and Cas’s hands around his neck, squeezing.  His cock was leaking now and he knew he must smell like a sex factory with how fucking turned on he was.  And sure enough, Cas had started to gently rock his pelvis into Dean’s and Dean felt Cas's half-hard cock rubbing against his ass.  Oh, God, he wanted to feel that without either of their pants.  He wondered what Cas’s cock would look like and how he would taste.  Helpful as ever, his mind supplied a vision of Cas on top of him, taking his hands off Dean’s neck and sliding forward so his knees rested on either side of Dean’s head, one hand on his hard (and of course gigantic and beautiful) cock getting ready to feed it to Dean.  Dean groaned audibly and Cas, as if in response to Dean’s arousal, started to rock into him a little harder.  He was nuzzling at Dean’s neck now, kissing and licking, and making little humming pleasure sounds.  _Fuck fuck fuck!  What do I do?  Cas isn’t even really awake, he wouldn’t be doing this if he was!_

Suddenly Dean’s phone rang and then everything happened at once.  Cas stopped moving for a breath and then rolled over to his back and reached for his own phone on his nightstand, while Dean reached out to grab his phone and see Sam’s name flashing on the screen.  He hit the accept button and whispered “Sammy?” into the phone as he swung his legs off the bed and hobbled over into the bathroom, luckily able to keep his back to Cas so he wouldn’t see Dean’s raging erection.  As Dean shut the door behind him he saw a glimpse of Cas rubbing his eyes and looking slightly confused.  That was a normal look for Cas in the morning, though, so Dean shrugged it off.

“Dean?  Dean.  Hello?  Are you there?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, Sammy.  I’m here.  What’s up?”  He slid down the wall to the cool tile floor, which helped get rid of the last residual bit of Cas’s warmth.  He could almost feel his head getting itself back on straight and leaned back against the wall, grateful for Sam’s timely interruption.

Sammy snickered slightly.  “I think I should ask what’s up with you?”

“Shut up, Bitch.”

“Not a chance, Jerk.”

“Guess I woke you up.  Sorry, it’s hard to catch the right timing between us and I don’t really know what your schedule is like right now.”

“It’s fine.  I’m glad to hear from you.  How’s saving the world going?”

“Dean, I’m not…whatever.  It’s good, man.  It’s really good.  I might actually get to catch a ride home for a little bit next month, so I’m hoping I’ll get to come out and see you?”

“Oh shit, Sam, that’d be great!  I can’t wait to see you!”

“Yeah, and uh, maybe I’ll get to meet this Castiel guy and put a face with the name I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“So much about?  I’ve only talked to you once since I’ve been here.  It’s not like I’m going on and on about him.”

“That’s true.  I have to get my information other ways.”

 _Bobby._   Dean groaned internally.  Cas had made a very good impression on Bobby.  Maybe too good.  “Yeah?  What did Bobby say exactly?”

“Oh, just that you have a strong, successful alpha following you around like a puppy.”

He knew Sam was baiting him, but it was too much to resist.  “He isn’t following me around and he sure isn’t any kind of puppy.”  He figured his tone sounded overly hostile for the light teasing Sam was giving him, hell he would have ribbed his little brother incessantly about something like suddenly moving in with a practical stranger none of them had ever heard about before.

Sam laughed.  “Ah, okay, so the strong and successful parts are true then.”

“Fuck, Sam!”  Sam’s light laughter on the other end of the line was just adding to his frustration.

“Okay, Dean, I’m sorry.  Seriously, though, it does sound like this guy is pretty devoted to taking care of you.”

“Yeah,” Dean admitted quietly, “He’s been…I guess he kinda saved my life.”

Sam was quiet on the other end of the line for a minute and Dean was about to ask if he was still there when Sam said, “Dean, you could have told me how serious this was.  You don’t have to still always be protecting me.  I could be there for you for a change, you know.”

Dean closed his eyes.  “I know, Sammy.  It isn’t exactly about that this time.  It’s just me.  The being strong thing…this time it’s for me.  Not you.  I know that probably doesn’t make any sense, and I don’t know if it’s unhealthy or whatever, but it doesn’t matter.  It’s what I need.”

“Okay, Dean.”

“Okay?”  Dean could feel his own brow furrowed in surprise at Sam’s calm acceptance.

“Yeah.  Okay.”

“Uh…right.  Umm…thanks.”

Sam’s chuckle drifted into his ear.  “So…since I was so mature about that, maybe it’ll be your turn now…”

“Oh god, what now?” Dean asked lightly, imagining that Sam was about to share something about his newest love interest.  That little brother of his could fall in love easier than most people tied their shoes.

“I just…I was hoping I had maybe earned a little sharing.  Like maybe you would honestly tell me about Castiel.  You know, what he’s like?  It’s not like Bobby paints the clearest picture and he only cares about whether he’s a strong alpha and has the right intentions.  You know.”

Dean’s instinct was of course to just say no or to joke it off, but after this morning…he really could use someone to talk to about Cas.  And Sammy was right that he deserved a little honesty and sharing from Dean once in a goddamn while.  He shifted the phone to his other ear and said, “Uh yeah, well, what’s he like?  Ummm…he’s pretty cool.  I mean he’s not like most of the people I hang out with—he’s kind of intellectual.”  Fuck, he just said that to Sam!  “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that.”  He could hear Sam’s light laughter and just decided to give up and push on.  “I guess maybe you already know he’s a writer.  Like a published writer with fans and crap.  And I don’t know how he grew up without it, but he doesn’t know shit about movies and TV or classic rock.  I’ve had to basically start his education from the beginning.”

“Bobby said he basically crashed at the hospital the whole week you were there.”

“Yeah.  I don’t think he slept at home once.  He was in my room or in the waiting room the whole time I think.”

“And you didn’t send him away.”  It wasn’t a question.  Or at least it was a different question—a question about why not.

“No.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Sam said.  He was pushing.  Gently.

“Yeah, I know.  He’s…different.”

“Yeah?”

“Cas is…he’s like an alpha but…only in the right ways.  When I woke up I wondered why he was there and I tried to sort of joke and tease and imply that he should leave.  But he just blew it all off and just stayed.  I mean, not rudely, not like a dick.  He just smiled and replied that there was nowhere more important and was still there the next time they brought me back to my room.  So before I knew it a couple days were gone and he was still there.  And when I called him on it, he just…”  Dean’s mind-Cas was saying ‘I remember the first time I saw you’ and ‘I have been attracted to you ever since that first day’.

“I asked him why he was there and he said…”  Mind-Cas was murmuring quietly to Dean ‘I didn’t know how to leave’.  “He said he was interested in me, but he didn’t expect anything.  And he just…”  Dean saw Cas holding his hand as he lay in the hospital bed and looking at him with those shining, cerulean blue eyes.

“Dean?”

Dean said in a rush, “He asked me for permission to stay and take care of me.” 

“Oh.”  Sammy sounded…impressed?  “And you said yes.”  Again, not a question.  Or rather, a different question, one about why.

“Uh, not right away.  I…Cas was holding my hand and he was there whenever I woke up and I thought I was annoyed.  I thought I wanted to leave.  Until he…asked me if he could stay.  Then I wasn’t sure.  I just…I didn’t know how to answer.  I didn’t want to be a dick.  But I thought if he was gone I would be alone which is usually a good thing but then suddenly maybe it wasn’t a good thing.”  _Fuck, I’m babbling.  Cas is rubbing off on me._   “So I…I scented him.”  It was practically a whisper.

All Sam did was make a little humming sound of acknowledgment and ask, “And that helped you decide?”

“Oh yeah.”  Fuck, he probably shouldn’t have said that with such obvious pleasure.  He sounded like he was still turned on.  He closed his eyes and remembered Cas’s scent.  It was easy here in his house where it lingered everywhere anyway.  “Uh…yeah, I mean…he’s like…his scent is…”  He opened his eyes and said, “Sammy, I’ve never smelled anything so good in my whole goddamn life.  He’s like a carnival and Christmas all rolled into one.”  Shit.  Now Sammy was just going to think Dean was making decisions about where to live based on his fucking nose and pheromones.

But Sammy just moved right on like a soft breeze.  “Well sounds like his house might be a pretty great place to be right now then.  So, I mean, it sounds like it’s all out in the open that he’s interested in you.  So how do you feel about him?”

Leave it to Sam to jump straight to the million dollar question.  “Honestly, Sam?  I think he’s fucking amazing.  But I was just totally convinced that we weren’t right for each other.  I mean, a week ago I knew there was no way it could ever work.”

“And this week?”  God, that boy always heard everything Dean didn’t say.

“Now I don’t know.  But now I know I wish….”

“So you are interested but you’re still holding back.”

Dean didn’t say anything.  What could he say to that?

“Dean, listen to me.  I don’t want to fully endorse jumping headlong into a relationship after what you’ve just been through.  Especially with some alpha I’ve never even met.  Though if Bobby approves of him….  Anyway, if it were any other year or month, I would just tell you straight out to go for it.  What are you waiting for?  Don’t answer that.  I know what you’re waiting for.  You’re waiting for some mediocre, just good enough, part-dickhead alpha.  Because that’s your thing.  That’s all you think you deserve.  Well, I’m sick of watching you waste your time on people you aren’t ever going to fall in love with.  Maybe your heart is safe, but your soul is corroding.  If Castiel is caring for you the way you would want someone to care for me, and he smells like heaven, and you have fun with him…Jesus, Dean, why do you need someone to spell it out for you?”

Dean heard some noise in the background at Sam’s end and Sam muffling the phone and saying to someone, “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

“Dean, I have to go.  But you need to think about this as if it was me, not you.  If I had someone like Castiel in my life and was holding back because I didn’t think I was good enough or I didn’t think I deserved his love or I thought he was too sweet and nice and not hard and tough enough or some shit like that, what would you say to me?  What would you want me to do?”

“I…I don’t…”

“Dean, you don’t have to answer that.  Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, Sammy.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon and hopefully see you in a few weeks.”

“Okay.  Take care.”

The line went dead and Sam was gone.  Dean’s hand with the phone dropped to the ground and he stared at the sink.  Shit.  He felt drained.  He couldn’t remember the last time Sam had been so…riled up about something Dean was doing.  His intensity had come through the phone and Dean felt as if it had run him over and then strung him up. 

After a minute he stood up, washed his face and brushed his teeth.  It helped.  When he opened the door, he was thinking mainly of coffee.  But in front of him, Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and a cloud of shame scent emanating from him.  He was about to drop to his knees in front of Cas when he thought of his toes and managed to adjust and instead take a seat next to him on the bed, putting one hand gently on one of his arms.

“Cas?”

Cas’s head flew up and he stared at Dean, looking a bit wild and frantic.  “Oh God, Dean, I’m so sorry.  I…please…forgive me for whatever I did…I didn’t mean…if I touched you some way that you…”  He trailed off.

“Cas, you don’t have anything to apologize for.  You didn’t do anything that crossed any lines, okay?  I’m not upset, I just got a call from Sam—that’s all.”  
“Yes, but…”  
“Cas…we were sleeping in the bed together.  You’re…we’re attracted to each other.  This kind of thing is going to happen.  I asked you to hold me, so if anything I’m the one to blame, alright?”  
Cas was nodding a bit now and his scent seemed to be evening out.

“Cas, if it’s going to make you too uncomfortable to sleep with me we can go back to the way we were before.”  He meant it as a genuine offering, distressed now at how much Cas seemed upset that he’d been hard and rubbing off on Dean’s ass.  If he even had really been aware of that.  For all Dean knew Cas was upset simply because he’d been hard at all and maybe made Dean uncomfortable.  Because Cas was like that—always overly sensitive on Dean’s behalf and always ready to apologize for the slightest possible offense. 

“No, Dean, please…”  If possible, Cas’s eyes were even wider now and they were the deepest cobalt blue Dean had ever seen.  “That would be far more…difficult.  Unless that is your preference.”

Dean smiled now.  He was back on surer ground finally.  “No, Cas.  That’s not my preference.”  Cas’s shoulders dropped in relief and Dean released Cas’s arm and reached for his oh-so-hated boots.  “Well, how about the non-gimpy one in the house gets his ass downstairs and starts the coffee?”

Cas jumped to obey before Dean had even started working the first boot on.

*             *             *

Benny took long swallow of whiskey and stared at the page in his hand.  He was so tired of reading Meg’s message history and emails he could barely see straight.  What was this girl like in person.  He felt like he had no idea.  He’d seen pictures at her house when he’d talked with Ruby the first time and again that morning, and in the file the tech team had pulled from online.  But the pictures looked so…sweet and girlish.  But Meg was neither sweet nor girlish.  She was often filthy and raunchy.  And her demeanor was sometimes cool and cocky and other times overly sensitive and artistic, as if she balanced precariously on a ledge and could fly off to either side at any moment.  He guessed she did fly off one side in the end.

He looked at the email she had sent to Adam Milligan again. 

_From:  PainMasters_

_To:  Adammsub1_

_October 14   01:14 AM_

Adam, my sweet.  I hope you enjoyed our Skype session last week.  You showed some promise and I feel with a bit of training and attention you may come along very nicely for me.  I mentioned to you my mentor, and he will be in your area this weekend.  If you are available, the two of you could meet somewhere appropriate and I could join by Skype again, while Alastair acts as my hands, so to speak.  Let me know what time would work for you and I will send you information on where to meet him.  I look forward to seeing you shake for me.

Alastair.  He heard Dean’s voice say ‘like Alexander but weirder’.  Could this be the killer?  He skimmed further in Meg’s email history looking for where and when Adam had met in person with him.  Hopefully it had been at a club or some other at least semi-public place.  And just maybe there were credit card records or someone would remember them.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas seeks advice; Benny keeps following the trail.

Castiel didn’t know how to handle this.  Dean kept staring at him when he thought the alpha wasn’t looking.  He’d been trying to work at the kitchen table, but Dean had been working away baking pies and then cleaning up after, and he felt those green eyes on him almost constantly.  He had been doing it during breakfast and lunch also.  And instead of humming or singing a little while he worked, Dean had been unusually quiet, clearly thinking about something.  Cas assumed it must have been something Sam had said and he didn’t want to pry, but it was becoming disconcerting.  Could Dean be contemplating leaving?  Finding somewhere else to stay so he wasn’t subject to Cas’s obvious desire?  Cas prayed he wasn’t considering going back home yet—it wasn’t safe for Dean to be alone with the killer still at large.  Though he supposed if Dean did insist on that he could obtain an alarm system for the house and could simply keep watch over Dean from his house.  There was nowhere he could think of, though, where he could be in a position to watch both entrances.  He would have to install cameras to cover the exterior and interior and…

Dean had said something to him.

“Wha..?”  He mentally buried his face in his palm.  He sounded like a crazy person.

“Wow, you were really zoned out there, Cas.  I asked if you want some water or iced tea or anything.”

“Uh, no, thank you, Dean.  I mean, yes, actually, water would be very nice.”  _Jesus._

Dean shook his head a little and turned back to the fridge.  “I know you’re still working now, but after dinner do you want to start your Star Wars education?”

A weird pressure that had been sitting in Cas’s head drifted off.  He’s not leaving then.  At least not today.  “Yes, that sounds…good.”

“And I thought you could maybe help me with my PT exercises,” Dean said as he set Cas’s water down on the table.

Cas stared at Dean.  “Um…of course.  If you like.”

“Cool.”  Dean picked up his own glass from the counter and drifted off into the living room.

 

Cas turned back to his page.  Blank and staring at him.  He stared back.  He stared back for ten minutes straight then shoved back from the table and took off for his office.  He had pressed the contact and had the call ringing through before he’d really even realized what he wanted to do.

Gabriel’s voice answered with a perky, “Hey, Bro, what’s up?”

“Gabriel.”

“Well, they don’t call you the smart one for nothing, do they?”

“I…”

“Cassie?  Are you alright?”  Gabriel’s voice sounded alert now, brisk and concerned.

“No, I’m fine.  I just…I could use…maybe some help?”

“Castiel?  Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling?”  He cleared his throat.  Fuck, Dean wasn’t even in the room with him anymore and he still sounded like a crazy person.  “Telling you.  I’m telling you.  I need your advice.”  He pushed the speaker button on his phone and set it on his desk.  He leaned over it on his elbows, waiting.

Silence.  “You need _my_ advice?  But I’m the feckless wanderer and you’re the one who has it all together.  You _never_ need my advice.  You never _want_ my advice.”

“Gabriel.”  He knew he sounded whiny, but Gabe could be so…Gabe.

“Sorry.  What is it?  What’s going on?”

“I…I think I’m in love.”

“Bro, that’s great!”  And Gabriel absolutely sounded like he meant it, like his entire face was beaming and he would have thrown his arms around Castiel if he could.  “That’s fantastic.  I thought maybe you would never…nevermind…sorry.  So who is the lucky guy or gal?  Is it that girl from the coffee shop we went to when I was there?  God, she was such a fan of your books, couldn’t quit going on and on…”  
“No, it’s not the coffee shop girl.”  Maybe this was a bad idea.  If he never got a word in how could he ever explain the problem?  And Gabriel would never understand.  He would have acted on his feelings the second he had them and consequences be damned.

“So…?  Who then?”

“It’s my neighbor, Dean.”

“The guy with the big black muscle car?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not an alpha?”

“No.  He’s an omega.”

“Oh, really?  Wow.  That’s hot.  Okay, so what’s the problem?  Is he married?  Engaged?  Straight?”

Castiel sighed audibly.  “No, it’s none of that, Gabriel.”

“Alright, alright.  Sorry.  Tell me all about it.”  And then he was blessedly quiet. 

“Well, um…he was…there was an attack…he was hurt in his own home a few weeks ago and I…I’m the one who found him after and called the ambulance and went to the hospital with him.”

“Oh God, Cass, that’s awful.  But he’s okay?”

“Um, well, yes and no.  He is recovering from his physical injuries, but I think he’s struggling with the emotional trauma.  And the police believe that his attacker killed a couple of other people and may still present a risk to Dean.”

“Shit.”

“Um, anyway, we’ve been together almost every moment since then.  He’s…he’s all I think about.  He’s so strong and resilient and brave.  And you would love how funny and sarcastic he can be.  Oh God, you two would fight like long lost siblings.  He loves music and movies and TV and food and cars and parks and sunshine and…”  He was lost in thoughts of Dean.  He couldn’t remember what he was trying to tell Gabriel or how to explain his feelings.

“Sounds like you’re right, Cassie.  You’re in love with Dean.  So the problem is that you don’t want to rush him after what happened?”

God bless Gabriel.  “Yes.”

“So I take it he’s not in the hospital anymore?”

“No, he’s been staying with me since last Saturday.”

“Aahh.”

“His place was too…traumatizing and the police recommended he stay with an alpha while the killer is at large.”

“And he preferred your place to his family?”

“Yes.” 

“Well, that sounds like he has pretty strong trust in you, Castiel.  An omega doesn’t just move in with someone they barely know without feeling some seriously strong attraction or at least trust instincts.  Maybe he’s in love with you, too.”

“I don’t think so,” Cas said quietly.  And he knew he sounded sad.  “But I think…see for a while I was sure that he just wasn’t at all attracted to me.  But lately…well I think maybe there is something there.  That maybe someday he could be.  But he has these walls.  It’s like he’s the opposite of me.  I’m standoff-ish with strangers—weird and uncomfortable.  So most people think I don’t like them or that I’m just a jerk.  That I’m surrounded by walls of one kind or another.  But the truth is I just don’t know how to make the connection.  And once I have people realize that I’m essentially incapable of putting up any walls whatsoever.  Dean is…he seems so open and warm.  He makes everyone immediately comfortable, either with a wink or a sarcastic joke or a warm smile.  It’s incredible to watch.  And he’s just so good with everyone and so warm and kind that you would never guess he has any walls at all.  But the truth is he’s almost completely surrounded by them.  He lets them down once in a while, but most of the time, he’s inside of a fortress and I feel like I can’t reach him.”

“Well, Castiel, let me guess.  Your way of breaching those walls is just by being your loving, supportive self, right?  Like, you’re being there for him, helping him, giving him a place to live, rides to the doc, all that crap, and making sure he’s safe from this crazy murderer?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s all super important and stuff you should definitely do for someone you care about who needs those things.  But it doesn’t really say, ‘Hey, I wanna jump your bones’ or ‘Gee, would you spend the rest of your life marrying me and letting me sniff your amazing omega stink’.”

“Jesus, _Gabriel_.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, Cass, but seriously.  If Dean is this perfect partner—this extraordinary omega that you say he is—then isn’t he worth taking a risk for?”  
Cas sighed.  “Of course he is.  He’s worth any risk.  Except the risk of hurting him.  I am…or at least my house is…a safe haven for him.  Somewhere and someone he can rely on while he’s healing.  I’ve been holding back expecting that when he was better I would have the chance to express my feelings with Dean whole and able to make an uninfluenced decision.  It isn’t fair to ask him now, while he’s here to be safe and protected by me.  And when he may be emotionally compromised by the trauma he experienced.”

“Fuck, Castiel.  You sound like a psychology textbook.  You called _me_.  We talk what, like once a month?  And you have _never_ asked me for advice before.  You called _me_ of all people for advice.  Because something about what you’re doing isn’t working.  Right?”

“Yes.”

“Come on.  Out with it.”

“Well, I…it was working.  I mean, it was working well enough.  I think Dean was feeling safe and comfortable and he is definitely healing and I hope I’m protecting him sufficiently.”

“But…”

“But now I’m finding it difficult to control my…reactions to him.”

He heard Gabriel’s low chuckle rumble through the line.  “Are you saying you’re sporting a boner all day because his lovely little omega scent is driving you crazy?”

“Jesus, Gabe, why did I call you?”

“Yah, but I’m right, right?”

“Well, it’s not that bad.  And it’s also worse.  I mean, if it was happening five feet away from him and all Dean had to deal with was a little aroused alpha scent I think I would be less worried about it.  But I…when I woke up this morning, I had an _erection_ and I was _grinding_ up against his back!”  Cas knew the horror he felt at his own actions was clear in his voice.

“Woah woah woah!  Slow down!  You guys are sleeping together?  How does that happen if you’re not _sleeping_ together?”

Oh.  That probably did sound odd.  “Look, Gabriel, it’s complicated.  But neither of us could sleep because Dean has these horrible nightmares and I can’t stand just waiting in my room and hoping that I’ll be able to hear when he’s reliving the disgusting torture that beast put him through and he thought it was a good idea for us to just sleep in the same room so…  Just, it doesn’t matter, okay.  The point is that I’ve violated his trust and it’s only likely to get worse.  I don’t know how I can keep something like this from happening again.  And he’s already been through so much.  I would do anything to make sure he feels safe here and secure with me.”

“Okay okay, Cass, relax.  So what did Dean say about your little problem this morning?”

Cas thought back.  “He said, since we’re in a bed together and we’re attracted to each other ‘these things are bound to happen’.”  _He said we’re attracted to each other._   “Wait, he…he said we’re attracted to each other.”

“Yeah.”

“He said he’s attracted to me.”

“Uh huh.  And it doesn’t sound like he was upset.”  Gabriel had on a sort of school teacher patient voice now.

“No, I guess he wasn’t.  His scent wasn’t disturbed.”

“Okay, so do you think you might be worrying more than you need to about the occasional morning wood?”

“Possibly,” Cas conceded.  “But this is important, Gabriel.  If anything I do adds to Dean’s trauma, I…I don’t know how I’ll live with that.”

“Did Dean have other options besides living with you?”

Cas was exasperated.  “Yes—what does that have to do with anything?” 

“Just humor me, Bro.”

“Yes, he has family.  I think they’re pretty close.  But they weren’t ideal for a few reasons.”

“But he could have gone somewhere else to stay?”

“Yes.”

“And did you bribe him or wheedle him or guilt trip him to come stay with you?”

“No!  Of course, not.  For Christ’s sake, Gabriel.”

“And he had a little time to think about his options before he moved in?”

“He didn’t move in exactly, but yes.”

“Cass, listen to me.  You aren’t going to hurt him.  Dean is clearly there with you because he senses what I already know about you—that you would walk through fire to protect someone you care about.  That you are a strong, capable alpha—the strongest kind of alpha—the kind who acts thoughtfully and carefully and never intentionally breaches a trust.  From what you’ve said, he doesn’t sound like the kind of guy who puts his trust in a lot of people, so maybe you should trust him in return.”

“What..what do you mean?”

“I mean that there’s no way he can magically just know how you feel.  You have to trust him to handle that.  You have to tell him.  You have to show him.  And yeah, with what he’s been through you want to do that respectfully and carefully.  So maybe you can’t just shove your dick down his throat like some sex-crazed rutting pig alpha.  And yeah, you shouldn’t force him into anything—but we both know you never would.  Castiel, he’s an adult man who deserves to know what’s going on with someone he lives with, someone he is now very close to, someone he likely cares a lot about, too.  If it turns out he isn’t interested, maybe your heart is broken, but don’t you owe him the chance to be the one who makes that decision?  Rather than you just sitting there day after day breaking your own heart without even giving him a choice?”

Castiel sat staring at the phone on his desk.

“Cass, you there, Bro?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard.”

“Okay, so now’s where you tell me to fuck off and that I don’t understand you and I never will.”

“I…I don’t…”

“Jesus, Castiel, did I break you?”

“Maybe.  I think you might have a point.”

“Holy Father in heaven!  I _knew_ I should have recorded this conversation.”

“Umm…thanks, Gabriel.”

“Bro, you are more than welcome.  So when will I get to meet this little minx of yours?”

“I’m hanging up now, Gabriel.  I love you.”

“Love you too, Cassie.  Now go get him!”

Cas pushed the end call button.  His mind was filled with Dean—all the times he had told Dean how wonderful he thought the omega was.  All the times he had shown his admiration or admitted he was attracted to Dean.  But he had never tried to kiss Dean.  He had never asked Dean for a date.  He had never asked Dean if he had a chance.  What if Dean was just waiting for Cas to be ready all this time?  Or what if he thought despite everything Cas said he wasn’t _really_ interested since he had never taken any steps to really _show_ that interest?  What if whatever Dean was so sure made him a sick and bad person made him think that Cas couldn’t really want to be with him?  He wondered if Gabriel could be right.  If there was a way to take that chance—to make that offer—to reach out to Dean—without being harmful or careless about what Dean was going through.

*             *             *

Benny walked out of Hell’s Gate and pulled out his phone.  He didn’t get much.  The doorman remembered Meg well—she had apparently been a regular for quite a while.  He also said he recognized Dean’s photo, though he couldn’t put a name with the face.  But he confirmed he’d only seen the omega once “which was a shame ‘cuz most every single Dom in the place would have loved to have a turn with an omega that pretty.”  He said he didn’t recognize the name Alastair and appeared genuine enough.  But when Benny asked about a man that Meg might have come in with or met with on occasion, perhaps older than her, not a sub but another Dom perhaps, the bouncer nodded his head and said yes, there was an older guy she came in with sometimes.  Tall, slim, dark hair but gray beard and mustache, maybe 50 or a little older.  Quiet and reserved, at least outside the playrooms.  “I got no idea what they turn out to be like when the game is on, man.”  It wasn’t much of a description, but it was a start.

He pressed the call button and listened for the call to ring through.

“Walker.”

“Gordon, I need you to run the name Alastair in all three victims’ metro areas.”

“Alastair.  Just a first name?”

“Yes.  Just get me the whole list, long or short, with ID details.  I’ll have to figure out how to narrow it down after that.  I’m just praying the fucker is on there and that it isn’t a fucking pseudonym or some shit.”

“Okay, anything else?”

“Yeah, also get me a list of all BDSM clubs in all three metros.”

“You know, Lafitte, if that’s what you’re into I know this girl—”

“Fuck off.”

“Okay, I’m on it.”

Benny hung up the phone as he merged onto the interstate.  He really shouldn’t be going out of his jurisdiction.  He should call the Memphis department and have them go to the club where Adam and Alastair had met.  But it was only about five hours away and he couldn’t risk losing this trail.  He just didn’t trust the instincts of some cops he’d never met.  He had to do the interviews, see the faces, watch their reactions himself.


	29. Twenty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think you guys are gonna like this one. At least I hope so.

Dean knocked on the office door lightly.  “Hey, Cas?  Um…dinner’s ready.”  There was some muffled noise, then Cas had opened the door and was standing in front of him, hair a little crazier than usual and eyes a bit wide, but otherwise just Cas.  In a t-shirt and jeans, barefoot.  Those arms that Dean knew were strong enough to lift him, a fucking grown man, with no trouble were showing—tan and huge and Dean wanted to feel them wrapped around him…

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Uh yeah,” Dean said, feeling a little foolish.  He turned back to head to the kitchen.  Sam had asked him to think about what he’d said and he had.  He had spent the entire damn day since his call with Sam thinking about it.  He heard Sam’s earnest voice in his ear saying ‘your soul is corroding’.  He knew Sam was right.  He _felt_ fucking corroded.  He had felt sick and worn out somewhere deep in his chest—someplace it isn’t even possible to reach—for years.  He didn’t deserve Cas.  He knew it.  When Cas had seemed perfect and untouched and innocent he had been able to have the illusion that part of Cas didn’t really deserve Dean either.  Like since he didn’t have that part that could really satisfy Dean’s masochism needs, then it was mutual—neither of them were good enough for the other.  But now….  Now he knew Cas deserved him—that Cas could give probably give him everything he had ever dreamed of.  But what could he possibly give Cas? 

Sam’s voice in his head said, ‘If I had someone like Castiel in my life, what would you say to me?’  “I’d fucking tell you to jump on that and ride it hard as long as you could,” Dean growled in his head to mind-Sam.  But Sam was perfect, too.  He deserved someone like Cas.  Earlier that afternoon as he was baking Dean had thought maybe he should just go for it.  Maybe it was Cas’s problem to figure out that he deserved better, and Dean should get as much time with him as he could before that happened.  He watched Cas, bent over his papers at the kitchen table, and it was so easy to be mesmerized by all that controlled alpha power.  Cas was this perfect kind of alpha—all potential energy just waiting to be unleashed.  Never out of control—well, except maybe if someone pissed him off.  Dean’s mind flashed back to Cas pinning that big alpha to the wall at the police station. 

But except for that, Cas was always holding himself in—no need to show his strength—it was just there and he could use it when he needed it.  Dean felt Cas’s arms underneath him, casually lifting him up from the couch to take him up to bed.  He shivered.

“Are you okay, Dean?  Are you cold?  We could adjust the thermostat?”

 _Cas.  Shit._   “Um, no, I’m fine.  Let’s eat.”

Cas smiled at him.  God, it was fucking sweet.  “Excellent.  What do we have?”

“Chicken pot pie.”

“You’re kidding?  You homemade chicken pot pie?”  Cas sounded like he had just opened a surprisingly good gift or won a lottery.  It made Dean’s heart beat faster.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

“Are you kidding, Dean?  This smells and looks delectable.”  Cas was hovering over the dish inhaling deeply with his eyes closed.  _Jesus._   Dean wanted to lick him.  Kind of everywhere.

They ate and despite Dean’s brain constantly circling the drain of his thoughts from earlier, it was easy and comfortable again.  Dean mentioned that Sam was hopefully going to be in the country and come for a visit in a few weeks and Cas’s face lit up with pleasure for Dean.  He told Dean, “I would love the opportunity to meet your brother” and Dean said he would like that, too.  Then Cas surprised Dean by saying that he’d spoken to his brother that afternoon as well.

“Really?  Which one?”

“Gabriel.  He’s my older brother, the one I told you I get along with.”

“What’s he like?”

Cas snorted.  “He’s like a hurricane.”

Dean laughed.  “So the opposite of you then.”

Cas gave him a lopsided smile.  “Basically.”

“Well then I look forward to the chance to meet him, too.” 

“Mmmm…maybe someday.  Frankly, I’d really rather avoid that as long as possible.  I have no doubt my brother would love the opportunity to tell you every embarrassing story about my childhood that he could think of.”

“It’s hard to imagine you have many embarrassing stories, Cas.”

“You have no idea, Dean.  I kind of struggled finding my way.”

Dean smiled softly to his plate.  “Well, I’m glad you found your way here.”

A waft of crackling firewood and peppermint drifted over to Dean as Cas said, “So am I, Dean.”

*             *             *

They watched Star Wars then started his exercises.  Dean’s mind was still in an endless spin cycle through the same thoughts.  How he didn’t deserve Cas, and how much he wanted to give in to his own desires anyway.  But every time he felt almost ready to fall over that precipice, he felt the scrape of his t-shirt or his eyes glanced down or his hand brushed his stomach and he remembered the truth that The Man had etched into his skin.  SLUT.  TRASH.  WORTHLESS.  In his mind he saw Cas’s face looking at those scars and seeing the heart of truth in each line—realizing how he had wasted his time on someone as sick and wasted as Dean.  Dean didn’t think he could come back from that. 

Cas had said that there was no shame in wanting.  No shame in wanting _pain_ —in desiring it, needing it, enjoying it.  But Cas couldn’t understand what Dean _really_ wanted and needed.  Dean was the same as that sick fuck that had tortured him.  He was sick and wrong.  That had happened to him because of who he was; what he wanted.  Dean knew it.  It was karma—the universe making sure that it paid someone like Dean back in kind.  Cas thought they were the same, but Dean knew they were so very different.  And now that he had spent this time with Cas there was no way he was going to risk seeing Cas’s eyes turn cold and flat and shut him out.  No, Sam loved Dean too much and didn’t know the sickness in Dean that was truly corroding his heart.  “I’m sorry, Sam,” Dean thought, “I can’t do it.”

*             *             *

Cas was nervous after the last time he’d been assisting when Dean had seemed upset after he came too close to Dean’s still-healing cuts.  But this had been Dean’s idea, so Cas was determined to relax as much as he could and just be a solid partner for Dean’s therapy.  Dean was progressing so well on all of his physical injuries and every step he made gave Cas a warm sense of alpha pride, having provided a safe home for Dean’s recovery.

Dean was extraordinarily quiet while he worked.  He seemed lost in his own thoughts again, and worked steadily as if by routine, just occasionally murmuring numbers of reps or light instructions to Cas.  Cas watched him work up a light sweat and occasionally bite his lower lip with effort.  His eyes were glassy, though, unfocused, off somewhere other than Cas’s living room.

As they were finishing up the arm exercises, Cas noticed Dean’s scent changing, the sick rotten cabbage smell and sulfur rising up from him, lightly at first but quickly becoming very strong, making Cas frown in worry.  Dean lay on his side and gestured for Dean to rise, then raised his arm straight up so Cas could press it back above his head.  Cas counted slowly as he stretched Dean’s muscles.  Dean’s eyes were closed now and Cas was finding it hard to concentrate with the smells of shame and disgust welling up from Dean.  They finished the first arm and Cas switched sides to work the other arm.  This was the broken arm, so Cas had to kneel down to work it and hold it more gently, with care to avoid putting pressure on the wrong spots.

He looked at Dean’s body stretched out on his floor and he would have been tempted to touch or at least to fantasize about touching except that Dean’s scent was making it difficult to fall into any thoughts bordering on sexiness.  He still couldn’t deny that Dean was beautiful, though—strong broad shoulders, tapering to an appealingly narrow waist.  Cas would never stop loving how some of Dean’s t-shirts seemed a little too small and hugged his body tight, showing ever muscle ridge and bump.  And sometimes, like now, riding up a bit when Dean was moving, showing touches of smooth tan skin that Cas longed to run his fingers over.  The pink healing cuts scattered over Dean’s abdomen did nothing to deter from his sex appeal.  They were less red now, some heading to white, all clearly healing and likely to leave thin, straight scars that…  Scars that…  Scars that spelled words.  The cuts were letters.  Cas inhaled sharply.  –ESS.  COC—.  –UT.  And more he couldn’t see.

He looked up at Dean’s face.  Dean was looking directly into his eyes.  He was still holding Dean’s arm but wasn’t moving.  Didn’t know how long it had been since he had done the last rep.

Dean was going to panic.  Cas didn’t know why, but this was what had upset Dean the last time.  He had reached out to touch Dean’s scars and Dean had bolted.  He had to stop it.  He didn’t understand it, but he had to make Dean stay.  Already his mind was screaming at Dean not to go, not to worry, not to leave him sitting there confused and alone.  But Dean couldn’t hear that.  Dean’s eyes were getting wider and wider and Cas felt Dean’s arm starting to twitch away from his grasp.

Without knowing he was going to, Cas leapt forward awkwardly and pressed his lips against Dean’s. 

*             *             *

As Cas worked on his arms, Dean closed his eyes and just let him work, swallowed up a bit in his own sorrow.  He knew he was on the verge of tears—or of lashing out and breaking something or someone.  He needed to just finish this up so he could go somewhere and scream and punch or cry and…  He was feeling nauseated now, and tried to concentrate on breathing evenly.  He needed to just finish this up and go up to bed and be alone.   _Fuck._   He wouldn’t be alone in bed.  _Cas._   His senses focused on Cas’s hands gently holding his arm above his cast and…  not moving.  Cas had stopped moving.

Dean opened his eyes and saw Cas staring at Dean’s stomach where his t-shirt had shifted up while they worked.  Dean saw the edges of cuts and saw Cas staring at them.  _Oh God!  Fuck!_   He had to get out of there.  But he couldn’t move—he didn’t know how to move.  Cas was still touching him, holding his arm gently, and he didn’t know how to stand anymore.  _Oh Christ, oh God, no, Cas!_

It was like everything was in slow motion.  Cas looked up at Dean and his eyes were so wide, so earnest.  It wasn’t the same look as in Dean’s vision when Cas saw the words—it wasn’t horrified and disgusted.  Cas didn’t know yet, he had seen something but he still hadn’t really seen and understood the truth about Dean.  Dean still had a chance.  Dean pulled at his arm, starting to remember how to get up, and then Cas was closer, was leaning toward him, still staring straight into Dean’s eyes, coming closer and closer.  Cas’s hands released Dean’s arm, but reached out for his…face.  His huge sparkling blue eyes were so close and one hand came up to grasp the back of Dean’s head and the other hand was starting to cup his jaw and then the blue was disappearing—Cas’s eyes were closing and his long eyelashes were falling down onto his cheeks and then Cas’s lips were pressed softly against Dean’s.

Dean felt like he was in midair, falling with nothing anywhere near him to hold onto.  Cas’s soft, dry lips were pressing gently against his, sweet and soft and Dean’s nose was inhaling peppermint and pine trees and none of this made any sense.  Dean closed his eyes.  Everything was dizziness and vertigo and confusion and the fear was starting to well up—maybe this was it—he was going to be falling forever.  _No no no no!  I’m not supposed to be doing this.  I can’t let Cas find out about me!  I have to go.  I have to get out of here!_  But then Cas’s hand shifted a bit at the back of his neck, gripping a bit tighter, pulling Dean a little bit into Cas.  He felt the solid ground of Cas’s living room floor underneath him and the fear was gone.  Cas’s lips shifted gently, opening a bit and the tip of Cas’s tongue grazed Dean’s bottom lip a bit as Cas’s mouth moved slightly against his.  _Oh God, it feels so good!_   It was as if Cas’s lips were somehow worshipping Dean—he felt like Cas was praising him without words—telling him that he was worthy, that he deserved to be kissed like this—pressing his lips against Dean’s with some kind of deep veneration or reverence that Dean didn’t understand but, given this taste now, he wanted so badly.

Cas started to move slowly, shifting his mouth, moving his soft kiss to the side a bit, pressing against the corner of Dean’s mouth, then just below that spot in the crease of his chin, then pressing more and more kisses to Dean’s chin and jaw.  Dean heard a small, soft little whimper and realized it was him.  Cas’s thumb was caressing one side of his jaw as his soft, lips kept pressing kisses along the edge of the other side.

Then he heard that Cas was whispering to him in between kisses and he was dizzy again for a moment as he heard, “Yes Dean…oh yes…you are so beautiful…so strong…such an amazing man…” and still felt the glory and homage of Cas’s lips pressing lightly against his cheek and jaw and now sliding down to his neck.  Cas’s hand shifted again, tugging slightly on Dean’s hair to tilt his head back and allow Cas better access to his neck and Dean whimpered again.  _Oh God, oh please God, oh please just let me feel more of this, maybe just this once, okay, he’s everything I need, please…_   “So good, Dean” (kiss) “So brave” (kiss) “Perfect omega” (kiss) “Perfect to me” (kiss) “Gorgeous” (kiss) “Such a good boy” (Cas’s tongue swiping a small lick on his adam’s apple) “So strong” (kiss) “So good letting me take care of you” (kiss)

Dean was making small needy noises every so often now and the worry about it had just dissipated with everything else except the need to keep hearing Cas saying these amazing things to him and feel his mouth pressed against Dean’s skin.  Cas’s mouth slid back up over Dean’s jaw and worked its way back to Dean’s lips where he settled gently, opening his mouth a bit to caress Dean’s lips with his tongue.  Dean finally was able to move, and pressed his lips slightly back against Cas’s and felt rewarded when his bottom lip slid a bit between Cas’s lips and he felt Cas’s teeth gently nip at it as Cas’s tongue simultaneously swiped across it.  Dean had never felt anything like this—never had someone spend so much time with him. 

He suddenly felt exhausted and drained and could tell his body was going limp.  Cas must have noticed because his grip on the back of Dean’s head grew a bit tighter and he pulled back.  Dean opened his eyes and gazed into the ocean of Cas’s eyes.  Cas pulled his hand from Dean’s jaw and Dean immediately wanted it back, but then he felt Cas shifting and his arm sliding under Dean’s knees and then Cas was lifting him up and standing, and Dean wrapped his free arm around Cas’s neck as Cas carried him up the stairs.  Cas laid him gently on his bed and slid in next to him, laying on his side right next to Dean.  He leaned slightly on one arm and let that hand slide back under Dean’s head to take hold of it again as he had been and he let his other hand drop to rest lightly on Dean’s shirt over his stomach.  He was still looking into Dean’s eyes—had been the whole time and Dean was lost in it—he had no idea what to say or what to do.  He wanted more of Cas’s kisses—more of Cas’s reverence.  He knew it was selfish and wrong, but he was yearning for it with his entire flesh and with something else deeper inside of himself.  Then Cas was speaking.

“Dean?”

“Cas,” Dean whispered, feeling like he was under some kind of spell, but desperate not to break it.

“Dean, was that okay?  Me kissing you?”

“Yes,” Dean said, still whispering.  “Yes.  Yes.”

Cas face broke out into a smile and Dean wanted to kiss it, to feel that smile pressed against his skin.

He felt Cas’s hand shift slightly on his stomach, just pressing flat and gently against him.  “Dean, may I look at you?”  Cas’s eyes were still focused on Dean’s, but his hand gently shifted down to slide under the bottom of Dean’s t-shirt and rest now on top of Dean’s skin—on top of the cuts.  “Please.”

“Cas…” Dean said and hated how weak and needy his voice sounded.

“Dean, you can say no to this.  You can always say no to me.  But I am asking you please not to.”  Cas sounded a little bit weak and needy, too, Dean thought.  “I care for you, Dean, and I know you are suffering.  Please let me bear a little bit of that suffering for you.” 

 _Oh God.  He didn’t.  How could?_   Cas’s eyes were like a calm, crystalline lake and Dean felt like he was floating on the surface, drifting but safe.  Dean nodded.


	30. Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of the scene after Dean and Cas kiss

“Dean, may I look at you?”  Cas slid his hand gently down Dean’s stomach to the bottom of his t-shirt and touched the skin underneath.  _Please, Dean, please don’t pull away_ , his mind and heart were begging the other man.

When Dean nodded at him, Cas was afraid he’d imagined it, but the vinegar smell of fear beginning to eke out from Dean brought him back and reminded him how important this trust was.  _Oh God, please don’t allow me to let him down._

“Thank you for your trust, Dean,” Cas said quietly, holding Dean’s gaze until Dean nodded slightly again.  Because he could, and in hopes it might make Dean more comfortable, Cas leaned forward and kissed Dean on the lips again.  This time Dean immediately kissed back, cautiously, but it was definitely there, a bit of pressure back against his lips and a slight twist of his head as if Dean were soaking in the pleasure of Cas’s mouth against his own.

Cas slid his body down the bed close along Dean’s side until his head was even with Dean’s chest.  He pressed his lips to Dean’s shoulder and arm a few times, then lifted his head to look at Dean.  Dean was still staring at him wide eyed and the scent of vinegar was getting a bit stronger.  But Dean wasn’t stopping him and hadn’t moved at all to pull away from him. 

“Thank you, Dean.  You’re so good—you’re doing so good.”  He kissed Dean’s arm again and allowed his fingers to take hold of the bottom edge of Dean’s t-shirt.  As he continued kissing Dean’s shoulder and arm, he gently pushed the bottom of Dean’s shirt up his abdomen, keeping very soft contact with Dean’s skin as he went, making sure nothing was too abrupt or sudden for the omega.  “So good, Dean, so beautiful.”  He looked up and Dean’s eyes were still directly on his own, huge saucers of green, pupils small and tight despite the darkness in the room.

Cas allowed his eyes to slide slowly from Dean’s, down and over to Dean’s stomach, resting on the pink slashing lines scattered over the skin.  For a moment he just saw the same nonsensical lines, then the areas he had recognized before pulled together and spread out into the words they were part of.  _Worthless.  Slut.  Cocksucker._   And then he saw more.  _Whore.  Trash._   He blinked, and felt something tilt in his head.  That sadist had not just wanted to cause Dean physical pain.  He had intended emotional torture.  He had intended exactly what was happening now—for Dean to feel that these things, these disgusting words, described something about Dean’s core, his deepest being.  Why it worked—why Dean believed that—Cas couldn’t begin to imagine, but it was so obvious now that he did.  “Not good, Cas,” Dean had said.  “Not good like you think.”  And he’d been panicked trying to explain that he hadn’t wanted the attack, but while still insisting he was sick inside.  _Oh, Dean!_

Cas looked up at Dean and saw green eyes, brimming with wet, unshed tears.  He suddenly realized that Dean was shivering and a cloud of vinegar smell was forming around the bed.  _Oh fuck!_   Cas slid quickly back up the bed and pulled Dean’s head into the crook of his neck and pulled Dean’s body slightly over to lean onto him.  _Fuck fuck fuck!  What the fuck do I say to him?  How can I make him see what I see?  What kind of flimsy bandaid are some intangible words going to be over this wound that his ripped into Dean’s heart so deep?_   He held Dean, and petted his back with one arm, gripping his hair tightly with the other.  He murmured nonsense about how good Dean was and thanking him for the trust, all while inside he was panicking and frantically searching for some kind of strategy.

 _I should have known.  How did I not see it?_   In Cas’s mind, Dean was saying, “No, Cas.  I’m not a good man.  You don’t know.”  He kissed the top of Dean’s head as he heard himself telling Dean he was there for him and Dean responding “But see, you wouldn’t be if you knew.”  _Oh, Christ.  I’m not equipped for this.  I’m not enough._  How could he ever make Dean understand the strength and heroism that Castiel saw when he looked at Dean.  How generous and empathetic and understanding Dean was.  How thrilling and fun he was to be around.  _How can anything I say convince him to let go of this torture?_   _To quit believing what that sadist carved into him and start believing in what I see?_

Cas took a deep breath.  It could take a long time for Dean’s soul to heal from this wound that had been inflicted on him.  Especially if part of it was something he was doing to himself.  Cas couldn’t focus on the long term right now.  He had to think about right now.  What Dean needed right now.  He stroked Dean’s back and focused on him and his scent.  Dean wasn’t shaking now and his breathing seemed even and calm.  The vinegar scent of fear was fading, so at least he was less frightened of Cas’s reaction.  So Cas just needed to repay Dean for his trust and set the foundation for the healing that Cas prayed Dean would be capable of in the future.  He closed his eyes and pictured Dean out in the sunshine, cocky, confident, smiling his flirtatious grin at Cas over the top of his Baby.

*             *             *

Dean breathed in Cas’s scent and felt almost normal again.  His panic was gone and Cas held him in his arms—he clearly didn’t intend to kick Dean out and he was still murmuring an occasional “You’re good” or “Thank you, Dean” and Dean was starting to drift a bit in a sort of mind-haze.  Then he felt Cas pull back from him a bit and bring his hand around from Dean’s back to tuck under his chin and lift his head up.  He opened his eyes and there were Cas’s bright blue lakes looking back at him.  And Cas smiled when their eyes met.  Then he leaned forward and kissed Dean.  Again.  Like this was their habit now.  Kissing.  _Maybe it will be our habit now.  It’s a nice habit._   Dean kissed back, softly, not wanting to rush ahead and break the spell that Cas was weaving.  It was so peaceful and warm, this aura of affection and care that Cas was casting all around him.  He didn’t want to step foot outside its boundaries ever again.  Then Cas leaned back a bit again and looked at him with that intense, reverent stare of his and Dean didn’t want that to stop either.  He saw Cas’s mouth turn up in a smile that looked so fucking genuine it was pulling at something inside Dean’s gut.  He seemed so goddamn pleased to just look at Dean that Dean could have stayed right in that spot for as long as Cas asked him to, just so he wouldn’t disappoint the alpha.

Then Cas was speaking, his voice low and quiet, somehow _careful_.  “How about we get ready for bed?”

It wasn’t anything Dean had been expecting him to say.  It was so normal.  So much the same as what Cas would have said before he kissed Dean.  Before he saw _those words_.  As if—nothing had changed for Cas.  But maybe he didn’t mean…

“Are we…do you want…should I go back to my room?” Dean asked, still mesmerized by Cas’s eyes and soft smile.

The smile turned to a small frown just briefly, then slid into a smaller, kind, caretakerly sort of smile.  “I hope you won’t,” Cas said.  “I don’t want you to go.”

They looked at each other and Cas didn’t say anything else.  Just patiently waiting for Dean to apparently make some kind of decision.

“Uh…okay.”  Dean groaned internally at the idiot schoolboy he sounded like, then slid out of bed on his side when Cas started to shift and get up.  He felt a bit groggy and it took him a moment to steady himself on his feet without the crutches.  But as Cas stepped over to his own dresser and dug around in a drawer, some feeling of normalcy returned and Dean hobbled out of the room and back to his own room to change.  When he took his shirt off and saw the cuts in the mirror he stared for a moment thinking about Cas.  He had no idea what Cas was thinking.  He didn’t say anything.  Not one fucking word other than “Thank you” and then the same nonsense praise that he always said to Dean.  Cas was such a strange, serious man—Dean couldn’t understand him.  How could he ever imagine what was going on in the alpha’s head?  He got dressed, brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face and was feeling much more normal when he headed back to Cas’s room.  Cas was just coming out of the bathroom and smiled gently at Dean when he entered.  They both stepped up to the bed and climbed in and Cas turned out the light.

Dean waited, uncertain again, as if they hadn’t done this before.  But Cas just scooted closer to him and slid his arm underneath Dean’s neck as usual, so Dean rolled toward him and cuddled in against Cas’s side as usual, resting his head on Cas’s shoulder and inhaling the delicious licorice-peppermint-firewood smell of him.  He felt Cas’s hand come up to his head, gently stroking his hair, just as usual.  _Home!_ Dean’s heart seemed to be yelling at him and he didn’t want to argue with it just now.

“Dean?” Cas whispered into his hair.

“Mmm?”

“There are two things I would like to say if you’ll permit me.  Well, one thing to say and one thing to ask.”

Dean’s stomach clenched and he willed himself not to panic.  If this was it, this was it.  He had made the decision when he nodded his head to Cas earlier and now he had to live with whatever happened.  “Okay.”

“Okay.  Um…well, I…  I know I have said this, but it is important to me to be clear, so um…  Thank you, Dean.”

“Thank you?”  _Fuck._   He sounded like an idiot child again just repeating things. 

“Yes.  Thank you.  Thank you for trusting me tonight.  Your trust in sharing something painful like that with me is…it’s a gift, Dean.  It’s a gift that I do not take lightly.  I promise you that I will always treasure this confidence and will endeavor to earn the trust you have placed in me.”

 _What the--?  Jesus._   Dean didn’t know what to do with that.  He had no idea how to respond.  It was no fucking gift to anyone to get to see what that fucker did—what Dean really was deep in his soul.  But of course Cas didn’t understand the significance—he thought the words were just another injury from a disturbed man—

“Dean, please listen to me,” Cas interrupted his thoughts.  And Dean couldn’t do anything _but_ listen to Cas when his low warm voice was coming through the dark and Dean’s ear was on his chest with the rumbling of it there, too.  “I know that you believe those words represent truth.  And I know you won’t agree with me when I say this, but you’re wrong about that.  You and that psychopathic man are both so very wrong.  You likely see me as a bit of a hermit, but I have seen and observed so many people before knowing you, Dean.  I have seen everything humanity has to offer, and your courage, honor, sensitivity and compassion are unsurpassed.  You are truly magnificent, from the surface of your skin to the deepest essence of your being.  So even though you don’t believe that yet, I want you to know that I believe it.  I have more faith in you than I have in any other human being or any other concept, being or thing in this life.”

Castiel stopped talking, tilting his head slightly to press his lips to the top of Dean’s head, and Dean’s ears were ringing with those phrases “truly magnificent,” “courage, honor, sensitivity” and Castiel having more faith in him than….  Castiel had spoken quietly, casting that spell that Dean was floating in, but even quiet his voice carried this weight of authority.  He had never heard anyone talk about things the way Cas did—with belief and conviction oozing out of each word.  _What am I supposed to do with this?_   Dean’s instincts were all shouting at him that anyone who would say such things about him was deluded, foolish, simply wrong.  But other parts of Dean, quieter still parts, just couldn’t believe that Cas was foolish or an idiot of some kind.  Those bits of Dean wanted to believe.  Because if Cas believed, then there had to be some truth to what he said, didn’t there?  At least a little.

“So…what I…” Cas began again, bringing Dean out of the reverie he had fallen into, “what I wanted to ask was…ummm….” 

Dean smiled inside as he observed the switch in Cas from the voice of authority a few minutes ago back to the nervous, uncertain version that always reminded Dean of their first few days at the hospital.  “It’s okay, Cas.  What is it?”

“Well,” Cas leaned back a bit from Dean and his head came down, clearly wanting to see Dean’s face, so Dean obliged, lifting up from Cas’s shoulder and laying his head down on the pillow to face Cas. “I…didn’t ask…so I wasn’t sure…if you…I shouldn’t…”  Dean watched Cas close his eyes and take a couple deep breaths.  _God, he’s charming when he’s nervous._   “Is it alright that I kissed you?”

Dean barely managed to keep from laughing aloud.  _That’s what he had been building up to?_   Such a simple thing.  And not something people asked.  You just kissed and you found out if it was okay when the person kissed you back or not.  Of course, Dean maybe hadn’t really kissed back very much yet.  He thought he kind of had a little the last couple kisses, but yeah, he had been pretty stressed out and sort of panicked about those words and maybe…  _Shit.  Fuck yeah, it was okay._   It was the sweetest touch Dean had ever felt—and he’d felt an awful lot of touching.  But no, he was supposed to say no.  He had decided earlier after all that thinking and dwelling and debating and worrying over everything that Sam had said that he wasn’t gonna go for it with Cas.  That he couldn’t risk Cas seeing…  _Oh God._   Seeing what Cas had already seen.  It already happened—and yet it was as if nothing had happened.  Instead of Cas’s eyes changing, Cas was holding him just as before and asking if it was okay to kiss him.  And Dean was tired.  Tired of himself.  Tired of fighting to keep the good things at bay—the best things— _Cas_.

Cas was gazing at him with those eyes, a sort of cobalt now in the dark room, so many things all at the same time.  Patient and impatient, worried and empathetic, confident and nervous.  Dean leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Cas’s, closing his eyes because Cas’s stare was making him dizzy and he wanted to do this right.  He pressed gently at first, then licked lightly at Cas’s lips until he opened his mouth slightly and allowed Dean to deepen the kiss.  Cas was passive for just another moment as Dean began to explore Cas’s teeth and tongue with his mouth, then he was moving, sliding his arms around Dean and pulling him close, meeting Dean’s tongue with his own, caressing Dean everywhere—with his tongue, with his hands— _fuck!_  It felt like his very chest was caressing Dean’s chest.  Everywhere they touched was warm and getting warmer and even Cas’s balsam-peppermint-licorice scent was caressing Dean, swathing him in a cocoon of pleasure-home-comfort-joy.

When they broke the kiss, Dean was panting a bit and rested his forehead on Cas’s, eyes closed, enjoying the dizzy high feeling.

Cas murmured, “So, that’s a yes, right?” and Dean chuckled.

“Fuck, yes.”

“And a yes to more kissing in the future then, too, right?”

“Yes,” Dean said and kissed Cas lightly on the lips.  Then slotted himself in against Cas’s side—where it already felt like he belonged.  Where he kind of wanted to belong for as long as he could.  “But I think I’m done for tonight.  I’m pretty drained.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas murmured into Dean’s hair, his hand already tight around Dean’s back, holding him close.


	31. Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter this time. Benny reflects on the case; Dean and Cas wake up.

Benny was almost home and so ready for the whiskey waiting for him on his coffee table.  Driving to Memphis had been a waste of time.  None of the employees he managed to talk to had recognized Adam’s picture.  Then when he’d tried to get sign-in and credit card records for the week in October when Adam and Alastair had visited, the cashier had called in the manager who insisted he bring in a warrant first.  So he called the Memphis PD and put them on it, but he knew now the process would take days if not a week and every day that killer was out there was grating on Benny’s nerves.  His gut was starting to twitch with it.  Something bad was coming and he couldn’t help feeling it was heading right for Dean Winchester.

He was actually a little surprised the fucker hadn’t already gone after Dean again, but he supposed that in Dean’s condition he wasn’t going out much and especially not going anywhere alone yet.  When those boots were off his feet and Dean could drive and went back to work…  _Stop it, Lafitte.  You just have to catch him before then._   He’d been telling himself for two weeks now that he would catch him and that they were making progress.  But it didn’t feel like it with this weight of dread that just kept building high up in his back at the bottom of his neck, making his shoulders tight and his head pound most days.  This fucking case! 

 _And what fucking progress have I made?  I have a name that probably isn’t even a real name.  And a BDSM community that isn’t exactly interested in breaching each other’s confidentiality._  He pulled into his driveway and cut the engine.  Yah, he needed that drink.

*             *             *

That little spot of light through the blinds was just beginning to light the pillow in front of him when Dean opened his eyes in the morning.  The room smelled amazing—blooming with proud, content alpha scent mixed with a crackling fireplace smell that belonged just to Cas.  Cas’s arm was wrapped around Dean’s chest and the feeling of _belonging_ and _rightness_ was irresistible.  Dean closed his eyes again and breathed in Cas, noticing all along his back where the alpha’s warm body was pressed against his.  As he lay there, Dean noted with a bit of amusement that Cas’s cock twitching against Dean’s ass was the first sign of him waking.  A minute later, Cas’s nose and face started nuzzling against the back of Dean’s neck and the arm around Dean’s midsection tightened a bit, pulling them closer together.  Cas was half-hard now and Dean’s own cock was taking interest in the sensations of the aroused alpha rubbing against him. 

Dean’s mind flashed an image of Cas looking so guilty a couple days earlier sitting on the side of the bed, ashamed of being aroused and rubbing up against Dean in bed.  He almost pulled away to let Cas wake up on his own.  _Cas would rather talk about this, wouldn’t he?  He’d want to look at me and ask and make sure every step was okay for both of us.  If I let this go too fast he’ll probably panic and stress about it.  But I know he wants me and he made it clear he’s no virgin.  He’s only worried about me, right?_   Dean closed his eyes and he pushed slightly back into Cas’s body and enjoyed the aroused intake of breath he got out of Cas.  _Fuck talking.  I’m better at showing._

*             *             *

Cas chased his dream, trying to hold on to it.  It was so good, so perfect.  He didn’t know where they were, but Dean was with him and his scent was everywhere and Cas could almost taste him—knew that if he did taste Dean’s skin it would be sweet and salty and addicting and everything else that Dean himself was.  Cas was so turned on and wanted Dean so much, but he was losing the fight, the dream was drifting and he was still so hot and hungry for more, but his eyes drifted open.  To light green eyes looking back at him, surrounded by long beautiful lashes, surrounded by…Dean.  He smiled sleepily and watched Dean’s eyes drift down to his mouth.  Dean licked his lips and Cas was so hard, his cock was throbbing with need and pleasure—pleasure—his dick, something was rubbing against him, something that felt warm and rough but also soft at the same time and a little…wet?  Dean met his gaze again and one side of his mouth was lifted in a smirk and he was staring into Cas’s eyes as…  _Fuck._   Dean was stroking his cock.  Dean’s hand was on him and he was stroking Cas in slow, smooth easy strokes.  _Oh god, he feels so amazing.  What do I do?  Did I wake him up?  He…he isn’t upset.  He...oh Jesus he’s so beautiful, he smells so good, but this…I wanted to show him…_

“Cas, look at me.”  Dean suddenly stopped his motion and squeezed Cas tightly.  Cas’s eyes lurched open again.  He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them.

“Dean, I…”

“Shhh, Cas.  Just look at me.”  Dean slid his hand up Cas’s cock again and then down and Cas stared at Dean, unable to move.  He wanted to do as Dean asked and he wanted to feel this sensation forever—Dean’s warm, rough skin riding up and down his shaft, sending little electric shocks through his body.  “I want you to come for me, Cas.  I want to watch you come.”  He tightened his grip a little and sped up the strokes a bit.  Cas wanted to close his eyes—it was too much seeing Dean over him, staring at him, touching him and not knowing what to do.  It felt wrong to just lay there and take it, but it was clear that was what Dean wanted him to do.

Then Dean leaned forward and licked his neck, then bit and nibbled right where he’d licked.  His mouth was so hot, as if fire could be made out of wet velvet, and where he touched, Cas’s skin tingled and sparkled as if charged with some power Dean was emitting.  His hand was jacking Cas harder and faster now and Cas was harder than he could remember being in years.  He was leaking on his stomach and occasionally Dean ran his thumb over the tip and slicked Cas up with his own pre-cum.  Dean kept looking into his eyes and then bending down to bite at his jaw and his neck and his hand was jacking Cas and it was a little bit awkward and still so much better than Cas’s own and all Cas could smell was his own arousal and need mixed with Dean’s cinnamon-jasmine and Cas was lost in the joy of it.  His body felt lax—weak and heavy—as if he were melting into the mattress. 

“Yeah, Cas, that’s it.  You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?”  Dean’s voice was rough, aroused—aroused from touching Cas!  _Oh god, Dean_ wants _this—he_ wants _to touch me.  He wants to watch me come.  Oh fuck._   The touch of Dean’s lips, tongue and teeth on his skin sent shivering tingles out from each spot they touched.  And his hand along Cas’s cock was a rough counterpoint—demanding and fast and hard now—dragging Cas toward orgasm.  Cas was no longer aware of anything other than Dean’s eyes and the parts of his body that Dean was touching with his mouth and hand.  He was panting and his hands were clutching at the sheets and Dean was jacking him fast and hard and squeezing tightly at the head of his cock each stroke and his eyes were so green and his breath was so warm and that rough voice whispered “Cas you look so fucking hot right now” and Cas flew off the edge, spasming with his orgasm, spilling over Dean’s hand and his own stomach, his eyes thrown wide open as he stared into Dean’s.

Dean stroked him gently through the end of his orgasm and when Cas twitched away from the sensitivity, Dean released him, casually bringing Cas’s hand to his mouth and licking the cum from his fingers.  Cas groaned aloud and Dean smiled—clearly pleased with the reaction.  Then Dean pressed a light kiss to Cas’s cheek and just rolled onto his back and let out a relaxed sort of sigh.

Cas was lost—he didn’t know what to do.  He wasn’t sure if he should reciprocate—this was so new and Dean had been sexually assaulted so recently—he could ask, but ask for what?  He couldn’t think, his mind was still hazy and having trouble getting up to speed.  He wanted so much from Dean, _with_ Dean, _for_ Dean.  But he knew he needed to proceed carefully, not lose any of the trust that Dean had placed in him.  But what did this mean?  Maybe Dean was opening their relationship up to all kinds of sexual activity now?

Dean’s hand was suddenly touching his, his fingers twining in with Cas’s and Cas felt grounded again.

“Cas, quit thinking so hard.”

“I, Dean, I...”  
“Relax and enjoy, man.  You woke up to a handjob.  It’s a good thing.”

“I know that, Dean,” Cas said, unable to help the slightly exasperated tone that seeped into his voice.  “I just—”

“Just nothing.  That’s it.  Okay, here, I’ll try doing it your way.”  Dean rolled back onto his side facing Cas and stared intently at Cas for few moments then said, “Thank you, Cas.  For sharing that with me.  For doing as I asked and letting me watch you come.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

Dean chuckled lightly and rolled back over onto his back.  “A little.  But I guess your way isn’t all bad.  I might kind of mean it.”

They were both quiet for a few moments, then Dean said, “And you did look super hot.”

“So…does this mean I get to see you come, too, Dean?” Cas asked the ceiling. 

“Later.  Right now we better get up so we can make the rounds of my doctor appointments.”

Cas knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he didn’t think the ceiling would mind.


	32. Thirty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. visits; Cas and Benny talk; Dean and Cas talk. WARNINGS FOR: Sexual abuse, physical abuse, violence.

The waiting room in the physician’s building at St. Michael’s was so much more relaxing than the emergency room and ward waiting rooms.  Cas had even brought his notebook with him and got a little writing done.  He was actually less distracted by hospital memories and waiting room discomforts than he was by flashes of what he and Dean might do that evening or night.  How Dean might allow him to touch…where Dean might allow him to kiss…how Dean would sound…how Dean would taste....  He’d been fighting an erection for the last 30 minutes and found himself actually enjoying the anticipation.  Dean had said he would be allowed to watch him come later.  He had smiled and laughed a bit when he did.  Cas wanted to do everything to Dean—wanted to kiss and lick every inch of his body; wanted to hold him and press their bodies together, grinding out their need against each other; wanted to wrap his lips around Dean’s cock and feel him swell and throb and then taste him as he exploded; wanted to spend an hour slowly opening him up and teasing him; wanted to slam into him just barely prepped and watch his face as he felt the stretch and pull of Cas inside of him; wanted…  Oh god, he wanted.  And Dean had basically said that he _could_ want.  That he could have.

The door clicked open over to his right and a nurse held the door for Dean as he came out into the waiting room.  Cas stood and they headed down to the lobby.

“So what did Dr. Mills say?”

“Doc says I’m doing good.  She has to call with the results on my kidneys, but she said everything else is moving along.  She thinks I’ll be able to get out of the boots in a couple weeks.”

“And go back to work?”

“Nah, she wouldn’t commit to that.  Said work boots would probably still be a bad idea and didn’t want me lifting too much and putting strain on the ribs and collarbone.”  Dean clearly was less happy with that news.

“Well, we’ll just have to find something else to keep you busy in the meantime.”

“Cas, are you flirting with me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”  They were both smiling as they walked out into the sunshine and headed to the car.  There was a car parked at the building’s curb and as Cas walked past he saw dark hair and a gray beard on a slim man.  _Was that the same man from Dean’s counselor’s office the other day?_   As he went for a doubletake, though, the car pulled away and Cas was left with a vague sense of disquiet.  He tried to get a look at the license plate, but had thought of it too late and could only tell that it was an in-state plate.

Dean had insisted on taking Baby today, which Cas had to admit bolstered both their moods, so with the thrilling potential of their relationship shift and the good report from Dr. Mills, they were both in high spirits as they drove over to Crowley’s office. 

While Dean was meeting with his counselor, Cas ran a couple of errands—dropped off dry cleaning, picked up some notes from his editor, and a couple other stops, but they all went quickly and he was back in the practice parking lot ten minutes before he expected Dean.  He closed his eyes and relaxed in the Impala with the windows open, enjoying the breeze and the smell of leather and of Dean in the car.  When he opened his eyes, they fell on a car across the street—the same car from St. Michael’s that morning.  He was instantly alert.  The light glared on the window so he couldn’t see the occupant, but he was already certain that if he could it would be the same gray bearded man from Monday.  He was out of the car and halfway across the parking lot before he realized what he was going to do.

When he reached the street, Cas could see the aquiline features of that same man, the dark hair, the beard, a piercing stare now resting on him.  As Castiel waited for a car to pass, the man’s face twisted in a dark smile that set Cas’s stomach roiling, and as the traffic cleared and Cas stepped forward, the vehicle pulled out and drove away.  He stared after it, memorizing:  _Black Cadillac CTS, plate SDST 793_.  It was him.  He was sure anyone would tell him he was paranoid, he had no proof, he couldn’t be sure.  That even if it was connected, it may not be the killer himself.  But Cas felt it in the nausea, dread and hatred that was seeping out of every bone in his body.  That was the face of the disgusting villain that had beaten, cut, raped and tortured Dean.  And he was watching Dean and seemed barely to care that he was under the protection of an alpha now.  So just as Benny and Cas had feared he clearly wanted something more from Dean—whether it was to kill him or torture him further Cas didn’t know or care.  He turned and walked back to the Impala, thinking to himself that he would give Benny a chance to catch him.  _But if it isn’t fast, I will have to kill him._

When Dean emerged he looked even more drained and saddened than usual.  Cas saw it but his mind was filled with that man’s face—his sick smile.  He didn’t know how to help Dean and he didn’t know how to help himself.  They drove silently back to the house and Cas watched Dean go up the stairs and disappear into his room.  He went straight to his office, already pulling out his cell phone, and felt relief when Benny answered after only one ring, “Lafitte.”

“Detective, it’s Castiel Novak.”

A beat.  Then, “Is Dean okay?”

“He is right now.  But I believe we are—he is—being watched.  I’ve seen the same man three times in the last three days.  I have his vehicle information for you.”

“Fuck.  Okay, good.”  He heard shuffling on the other end of the line.  “Give it to me.”

He recited the make, model and plate and heard Benny shouting it to another officer.  When Benny came back he said, “Can you describe the man?”

Cas did, and under his breath Benny said, “Oh fucking Christ.”

“It’s him,” Cas said flatly.

“I don’t know.  But yeah, maybe.  I’ve had a hard time ID-ing the description so you may have just given me the break I need.”

“Great,” Cas said and knew he sounded bitter.  But it was hard to care.  “I’ll call you back in five minutes.” 

He hung up the phone and dropped his head into his hands.  He stared at the floor and tried to think about nothing.  But his mind was going crazy—flashing a slew of disjointed images before him—making his chest and head hurt and his knees shake with tension.  Dean curled up on the bed in his own house racked with sobs.  Himself in a prison cell laying on a cot staring at the ceiling.  The gray bearded man’s twisted smile.  Dean rolling out pie dough in his kitchen and humming.  Dean leaning up against his Impala with Bobby drinking beer.  The gray bearded man’s inert body on the ground at his feet, smeared in blood.  Benny arresting Cas and reading him his rights.  Dean holding Watership Down out to him at the park.   
He dragged his head up and looked at his phone.  Six minutes had passed.  He pressed the button to call Benny.

“Novak, what’s going on?”

“I need you to tell me who he is.  Where he lives.”

There was silence for three heartbeats then, “You know I can’t do that.”

“I gave this to you, Detective.  I could have pursued this on my own.  I want you to catch him.  But I need to protect Dean in the meantime.”

“You are protecting Dean.  You have the home, the alarm system and you’re with him all the time.  You just keep doing that.  And I’ll protect him by finding the guy and putting him behind bars.”

“You have a name and address now.  Give it to me.”

“Castiel, I can’t.”

“I will not let Dean be hurt again.”

Benny sighed.  “Yeah, I’m getting that.  I’m glad.  I’m glad you’re there to keep Dean safe.  But you have to let me do my job.  There are at least two other victims who deserve justice here, too, Castiel.”

“Quit fucking calling me Castiel.  You’ve never called me Castiel before!”  _Shit._   He was yelling.  Dean probably heard that.  _Fuck fuck fuck._   He was losing control.  He pulled himself in tight and rubbed his temples.  Benny wasn’t saying anything.  But he hadn’t hung up.  “I’m sorry, that was not called for.”

“It’s fine.  I get it.”

“Detec—Benny.  Let me ask you something.  You must have seen pictures of all the—victims.  Including Dean.”  A quiet grunt of acknowledgment.  “Did he torture the other two victims as much as he did Dean?”

“They—yes.  And no.  No, not—it wasn’t the same.”

“And you’ve seen what he carved into Dean’s stomach?”  Cas’s gut squirmed as he asked this.  It felt like a violation to be talking about Dean this way but he had to get Benny to understand. 

“Yes, I saw.”

“That isn’t just a broken bone or a punch in the gut, Benny.  And it isn’t just a bunch of scars.  He intended to scar Dean inside as well—to destroy his well-being.  And it worked—at least somewhat.  Maybe Dean will survive—maybe he will come back from this.  I don’t know.  But he wasn’t supposed to.  The way I see it, the better Dean does at picking up the pieces of his life, the bigger risk he is under.  He is watching—watching Dean to make sure those scars work—make sure he doesn’t recover.  He will be coming for Dean if you don’t stop him first.  And I cannot let him touch a single hair on Dean.  Ever.”

“Castiel, I will catch him.  I promised Dean and I promise you.  If this is the guy, I will make sure he goes down.  You have to give me time.”

“I don’t know how much time we have, but I will not do anything unless I have to to protect Dean from imminent danger.”

“Good.”

“So tell me.”

“Castiel, I can’t.”

“Just the name then.”

“No.  I’m sorry.  You have to just keep focusing on helping Dean get better, okay?”

“Dean’s well-being is my only focus every moment of every day, Detective.  Please.  I’m begging you.  Please extract whatever other promises or information you require in order to give me this.  I just need to be ready—I need to make sure he’s safe.” His voice cracked and he knew Benny could probably hear that there were tears streaming down his face now.  “He’s—he’s all that matters.  Please.”

Benny was quiet for a full minute and Cas had control over himself again when he heard Benny say, “You have to promise me you won’t go after him.” 

“Yes,” Cas said breathlessly.  “Yes, of course, you have my word.”

“Fuck.  Don’t make me regret this, Novak.”

“I won’t.”

“Christopher Rolston, 111 Galway Place in Bonneville.”

Cas’s shoulders relaxed and the pounding in his head eased off.  “Thank you.”

“Yeah.  I’m gonna end up fired after this case.  I fucking know it.”

“I will endeavor to make sure that does not happen as a result of any actions I take, Detective.”

“Uh huh.  Alright, so let me get to work on this.”

“Yes, of course.  Goodbye.”  He hung up.  And pulled open his laptop.

*             *             *

Dean knocked on his door about an hour later, when he’d only managed to learn a little about the pediatrician named Christopher Rolston, but had engaged a P.I. to trail him and get some additional details.  He had cautioned the man for his own safety that his subject was extremely dangerous and that it would be best to stay out of the way of the Madison PD.  But also assured him that money was no object and time was of the essence.  He was feeling somewhat better, and ready to focus again on Dean’s more immediate needs.

“Come in.”

Dean opened the door and leaned in slightly.  He didn’t have his crutches and he still looked depleted and unhappy.  “I’m not feeling much like cooking.  I…I was wondering if maybe we should order in?  Maybe Chinese or something?”

Cas stood and approached Dean.  He wanted to wrap his arms around the omega and wasn’t sure if he had license to do that now whenever he felt like it or not.  He knew Dean didn’t like to feel coddled, but he didn’t know how to resist the magnetic pull of Dean—especially an unhappy Dean who deserved whatever small comfort Cas’s scent and arms could provide.  He stood awkwardly next to Dean for a moment and then reached out a hand to touch Dean’s that was resting on the doorknob.  Dean looked down at it then back up at Cas and they fell together.  Cas wrapped his arms around Dean, burying one hand in his soft, short hair and pressing the other to his back as Dean dropped his face into the crook of Cas’s neck and wrapped both of his own arms around Cas’s waist.

Cas could feel all of the tension that had built in him that day since seeing that man—Rolston, his mind supplied—at the hospital just drift down and out of his body.  His head stopped pounding, his stomach settled and some of his energy returned.  They held each other for a couple minutes, then Dean stepped back and gave Cas a small smile.  Cas tentatively leaned forward, giving Dean the opportunity to back away, but Dean met him in a light, tender kiss and then turned to head toward the kitchen.  Cas shut his laptop and followed. 

They ordered dinner and then watched some Dr. Sexy until it arrived.  When the delivery man came, they set up in the living room and re-took up their spots on the couch, digging in quietly.

Dean was just picking at his food and Cas was just starting to wonder whether to ask him about how he was feeling or try to distract him, when Dean abruptly asked, “How long did it take you to stop feeling ashamed?  You know, of the kinds of things you wanted.”  He was staring down at his fork in the carryout container and didn’t look up at Cas.

Cas’s heart flipped.  It felt like he was being handed an opportunity.  His chance to maybe really help Dean.  “A long time.  Probably about ten years, maybe a couple more.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded to his dish.  “I thought I was good with…um…the stuff that I’m into.  But I don’t know, I guess maybe not so much.”  Cas inhaled and took in Dean’s scent.  As it had been all day, it was tinged with some of his common self-hatred and disgust odors, this time mixed in also with more sadness than usual.

“Dean,” Cas said cautiously, “it is clear you are into painplay.  I’m not certain why you are hesitant to discuss it, but I think you know now that I have…similar inclinations.  And even if I did not, I wouldn’t judge you for any of your interests.”

Dean didn’t raise his eyes, but his shoulders relaxed a bit and he nodded slightly.  “Yeah, uh, thanks, Cas.  Um, yeah, I am.  Into pain, I mean.  Kind of a lot.  I mean, I guess if we’re gonna be doing this sex relationship kind of thing together, maybe we should talk about…what we’re into?”  He stopped talking.  Licked his lips.  Moved his fork around in the container.

Moving as if Dean were a rabbit he could startle at any time, Cas gently set his food down and slid off the couch, walking on his knees the few steps over to Dean and knelt before him on the floor.  He gently placed his hands on Dean’s knees and waited until Dean looked up at him.  The green in his eyes looked darker than usual and he seemed childlike and vulnerable to Cas in the evening shade settling in the living room.  “Dean, I want to know everything you like, everything you want, enjoy and desire.  If there’s something you need that I can provide, I want to know and will do my best to give it to you.  And you can ask me anything you want to know about me and I’ll try to be as honest as I can.  But I’m not rushing you—we have plenty of time to explore all of this.”

Dean nodded.  Said nothing.  Just looked at him.  He still looked so vulnerable.  He looked like he needed something, but Cas wasn’t sure what it was.

“Is this on your mind from your counseling session today?”

Dean nodded again.

“I….  Do…do you want to tell me about it?”

Dean shrugged, and Cas was searching around for what to ask or say next when Dean just started talking.  “I was in this relationship.  It was a Dom/sub sort of thing.”  He looked up briefly at Cas, who just nodded, not wanting to disrupt whatever Dean needed to get out.  “Back then I thought maybe I was into that kind of thing—being submissive, serving someone.  I guess for a lot of people it kind of goes along with the pain thing, at least that’s how everyone I’d met who was into pain at that point was and I guess I didn’t know any better.  So um, so I had this Dom, Zachariah.  He was an older guy—I was pretty young at the time and I really liked that.  Thought he was experienced, mature, almost businesslike.  Something about that made it feel safer.  And he wasn’t really all that into the sex side of things, which also made him seem safe at first.  He was into non-sex servitude and into sort of servitude exhibitionism—liked to show me off to his friends, how I would obey, how good I looked naked or tied up, that kind of thing.  And he would give me pain as a reward for being good, so we both got what we wanted.”

“But after maybe 6 months or so, it just turned really…sour, I guess.  He just wasn’t interested enough in pain to really do anything…I don’t know…new or different or even just hard or strong enough for me anymore.  I needed more.  And I wasn’t into just being bossed around and looking pretty enough for him, either.  So we got on each other’s nerves and we pushed each other’s buttons and we had a few bad sessions and kind of a rough ending.”  There was something there that Dean wasn’t saying, but Cas filed it away for another time.  “But it was a good thing in the end because of how much better I understood what I wanted after that.  I didn’t really care about serving him or just being in that sort of no-control headspace like other subs seemed to.  I just wanted pain—and a lot more than some people are comfortable inflicting on another person.”

Dean paused, set down the carryout container he had been fiddling with and brushed his hands off on his pants.  Cas’s hands were still resting on Dean’s knees and when Dean stopped his hands were just above Cas’s and Cas reached out with a couple fingers of each hand to caress Dean’s fingertips.

Dean went on.  "The thing is…knowing what you want is only part of what you have to figure out.  There’s also…  I mean, you said that there is nothing wrong with wanting.  But isn’t there something wrong with wanting some kinds of things?  I mean, are we saying that wanting to hurt people is _always_ okay?  What about wanting to rape people?  Or something like wanting children—you know, for sex?  I mean, is the only thing that matters whether you act on it?  I don’t know.  That just doesn’t feel right.  Some things feel wrong.  So how are you supposed to feel okay about wanting something that feels wrong?”

Dean was staring down at their hands and didn’t say anything more.

“I don’t know, Dean.  I haven’t had to face the same question regarding rape or pedophilia.  But I have spent a lot of time thinking about my own sadistic and dominant tendencies.  And yes, it isn’t as simple as just whether or not you act.  Or whether or not you have consent of your partner.  Those are important elements, but I believe there are other lines, too.  If my partner consented to something that would result in a debilitating injury, for example, then I would not act on that.  I don’t think I’ve ever been faced with a situation like that where I still would have enjoyed the act despite the consequences, but I think I could imagine that being possible.  And I am confident I would deny myself that pleasure and I believe that I would not condemn myself based on the mere idea that it would have been pleasurable.”

Dean hadn’t moved or responded.  His scent hadn’t changed much, but at least he hadn’t given up on talking with Cas—hadn’t run from the room or shut down.

“Is there a specific example or incident you are particularly worried about?” Cas tried. 

“I….  When that man…”  _Oh._   Cas heard Dean’s voice in his head saying ‘I didn’t want that’.  _Jesus Christ.  What have I been thinking?  Of_ course _he’s connecting that torture and abuse to his masochistic desires.  He wants things just like the things that were done to him.  Oh God.  That has to be confusing and twisting him up inside._   “I was sick a lot.  I threw up I don’t know how many times.  I mean, not that there was much to throw up after the first couple times.  And I was disgusted.  It wasn’t sexy—it wasn’t good.  It wasn’t anything I wanted.  But…”

Dean pulled his hands back, away from Cas’s, and picked at his jeans with one hand.  Cas gently squeezed Dean’s knees and scooted in a bit tighter, almost slotting between Dean’s legs.  “Dean, it’s okay.  I’m here.  If you want to, or you need to, you can tell me anything.”

“I…I came.  He…he made me come.  And I even came…I even came when he didn’t make me.  When he…  When he broke my toes I…  He…  Fuck.”

Cas saw a tear drop down from Dean’s cheek to hit his pant leg.  He lurched up to the couch next to Dean and knew his voice sounded weak and fragile when he asked, “Please, Dean, please let me hold you?”

Dean nodded, Cas opened his arms and Dean fell into them, head falling into Cas’s chest and Cas’s arms coming around to cradle him gently and rub his back in smooth strokes.

“He had this little sort of mini hammer.  Heavy though, like seriously weighty.  And he had me strapped down crazy tight to the couch with my feet roped up to this board.  I didn’t understand until he hit the first toe.  He started with the little toes—you know saving the bigger bones, the bigger pain for last.  He just went one by one, but like so slow, talking about it and stringing out the tension and the waiting.  There must have been ten, fifteen minutes before he’d go to the next one.  And he’d talk about pain—what pain was like—why it had these effects on the body.”  Dean’s voice was rough, scratchy with choked back tears or anger.  “And at first I was just sick, but then after a while, I don’t know why—I didn’t want to—I wasn’t thinking good things—but I just—I got hard and I...it got urgent and...then on the fourth one I just came.”

Cas could feel Dean’s tears dripping onto his neck and Dean was shaking a bit and clutching Cas’s shirt in his fists.  Cas kept petting Dean’s back with one hand and slid his other hand into Dean’s hair, taking as good a grip as he could get on the short hair.  Making sure Dean knew he was there and keeping Dean secure.

“That was the first time I begged.  I couldn’t handle it.  Everything violent in me, everything that wanted to hurt him and make him pay for the torture and sick shit turned and twisted and I wanted to hurt myself for being so fucking sick.  But he wouldn’t stop.  Not until the job was done.  And I couldn’t stop either.  Before he was done it happened again and I prayed that he would just end me so I wouldn’t have to do this, Cas.  So I wouldn’t have to live and get up every morning and face who I am.  How fucking sick and disturbed I am.”

Dean stopped and there was silence in the room for several minutes except Dean’s rough uneven breathing.

“Dean, I’m going to get up for a minute, but I’m going to come right back, okay?   I’ll only be a second.  Please will you stay here and wait for me?”

Dean nodded and leaned slightly back into the couch back, so Cas could extricate himself.  He quickly grabbed a bottled water from the fridge, turned off the lights, grabbed the throw blanket and pillows and returned to the couch.  He set the water down, dropped the pillows against the couch arm and stretched out on the couch.  He beckoned to Dean with his arms and said quietly, “Come here,” and was relieved when Dean complied without any argument.  Dean crawled up to stretch lengthwise half next to and half on top of Cas, his head on the alpha’s chest.  Cas dropped his hand back into Dean’s hair and pulled the throw on top of them with his free hand.

After a minute, he whispered into Dean’s hair, “I know you’re going to need time to work through this, Dean.  I promise you I won’t rush you—and I will do everything I can to keep anyone else from rushing you.  But that includes you.  You have to give yourself time.  I know there is nothing sick or disgusting about you or your desires.  How I know it and how you are going to know it—I don’t know if I can explain that right now.  But I have faith in you.  So I will do everything I can to protect you from the pressure that you are putting on yourself.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but Cas could tell he was listening.  His scent was still sad, but the self-loathing and disgust were waning slightly, he thought.

“I believe that you experienced a physical reaction to physical stimuli.  Perhaps there was a mental element—mental stimuli inflicted on you intended to get the result that occurred.  But it comes down to the same thing—our bodies and our minds react to things and we can’t always control our physical reactions.”

Cas focused on his own scent again—safety, calm, security, comfort and most importantly proud alpha.  He tried to will it out to wrap Dean in its protective shield.

“Just because you had a physical reaction, were sexually aroused, by something, it doesn’t mean that you would act on it given a free choice.  And we often act for pleasure or other expedient reasons in ways that are not best for our ultimate well-being.  So even if you would freely choose a similar physical abuse and get sexual satisfaction from it, Dean, none of that reflects on your morality.  Nothing you have said implies that you would take any action that would hurt another human being in that way or take any pleasure from that.  What was done to you, Dean, it doesn’t reflect on your humanity—your virtuosity.  And I know it is going to take you a while to believe that.  So if you can’t believe in your own goodness right now, I can believe in it enough for both of us.”

Dean was breathing evenly now, and he smelled better.  Still tinged with sourness and unhappiness, but with touches of safety and comfort starting to edge in.

“Let’s sleep a bit, okay, Dean?  I’ll be here.”


	33. Thirty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has breakfast; Benny is frustrated; Cas and Dean visit the Omega Center again. WARNINGS FOR: Minor violence scene.

Dean woke up feeling a strange combination of exhausted and replenished.  He had slept well and the black pit of disgust that had been sticking somewhere deep in his chest most of the day before was barely there now.  He still felt the aftermath of sadness and emotional wear.  But he was warm and the bed smelled like Cas and something about that scent of his—which always seemed like joy made into a cologne—made getting up and facing the day seem like less of a fight and more of an opportunity.  The bed—he was in the bed—but he had fallen asleep on the couch.  He smiled, picturing Cas doing his alpha routine and sweeping Dean up bridal style into his arms.  Dean had previously seen a lot of his omega instincts as emasculating, but with Cas—well, Dean would let Cas pick him up and carry him anywhere any time.  Okay, well maybe not in front of Sam or Bobby.

Dean stretched and his mind registered that Cas wasn’t there.  He listened, but didn’t hear anything.  Maybe he’d wanted to get some work done early while Dean was sleeping.  Dean’s stomach rumbled and he was just deciding to get up and get some breakfast when the door swung in and Cas followed it with a tray in hand, heavy with food.  Dean’s eyes fell on a steaming mug of coffee as Cas walked around the bed to Dean’s side.

“You’d better sit up,” Cas said, “or I’m likely to spill this hot coffee all over you.”

Dean scrambled upright and Cas set the tray on his legs.  There was coffee, OJ, bacon, pancakes, eggs, hash browns and toast.

“Wow, Cas, who’s gonna eat all this?”

Cas shrugged.  “I wasn’t sure which items would be most appealing to you this morning.”  He was sitting on the edge of the bed next to Dean and seemed a bit embarrassed.

Dean’s heart stabbed with guilt and he stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth and as he chewed around it he offered, “This is great, Cas.  Thanks.  I’ve never had breakfast in bed before.”

Dean was instantly glad he had made the effort, as Cas brightened immediately and came around the bed to climb in next to Dean and pick up his own mug of coffee from the tray.  He cradled it in his hands and watched Dean eat. 

After a few minutes, with his mouth full of pancakes, Dean asked a muffled, “So what’s on your schedule today?”

“Well, I thought I would work a bit this morning and then…um…it’s Thursday, so the Omega Center is discharging residents.  I thought maybe you would like to go with me again?  And we could get lunch somewhere?”

 _Yes._   Dean wanted that.  Seeing some omegas successful in progressing through their own personal struggles sounded so good.  _It’s weird, though, right?  Watching other people’s private moments?_   “Are you…is it definitely okay?  I mean, aren’t we invading their privacy or something?”

But Cas just smiled and said, “Oh no, not at all.  I mean, people who are feeling the need for privacy, just leave quickly or place themselves further away from others.  And I have never—we won’t—disrupt that need for peace and solitude.  I understand your concern—when I visited Anna there the first couple times, I was nervous and always trying to look away from everyone, so Anna introduced me to some of the residents and we met their loved ones, and everyone was so kind and so pleased to share their own successes and stories.  And if they felt it would help give another suffering omega—probably anyone, suffering or omega or not—any additional sense of peace or strength, it would only increase their own joy.  But if you like, we can always ask at the center first.  I know they will be happy to talk to you.”

Dean’s shoulders tightened.  “Uh, I don’t think…I’m not really ready for a hard sell or anything like that.”

“Of course not, Dean.  You don’t have to talk to anyone in any official capacity—it wasn’t my intention to push you into their services.  Of course, if you would like to give it a try, I would support you, but in light of your current need for safety, it just…um, you’re probably safer here right now.”  Cas didn’t say it, but Dean heard in his head the unspoken thought that they also shouldn’t put the other omegas at risk from his attacker.  “We don’t have to go there at all today—it was just a thought.”

“No Cas, it was a good thought.  I want to go.”

Cas grinned, big and bright with teeth, the smile he only occasionally let loose and Dean’s shoulders immediately relaxed.  “I, um, I got you something yesterday.”  Cas reached into his nightstand and pulled out a small box.

Dean set his fork down and wiped his hands on the napkin, took a hold of the box and opened it.  A single key was inside on a small simple bar keychain with Cyrillic lettering: Драгоценный.  Dean took it out and looked up at Cas.

“I know you haven’t really gone anywhere without me yet, but when you do I thought you could use a key."

Dean rubbed his finger across the etching in the keychain.  “What does it mean?”

“It’s Russian.  It roughly translates to ‘precious’.”  Cas was looking down at his cup of coffee.

Dean’s throat felt tight and he had to take a couple breaths before he could say, “Thanks, Cas.”  He wanted to say more but nothing else came to him.

“You’re very welcome, Dean.”  And even though Dean’s words had felt so inadequate, Cas’s voice sounded warm and happy.  He put the keychain back in its box and dug back in to eat, the sense of comfort and home that he had woken up with swelling up from his toes along his spine and sending a warm sort of tingling through his body.

*                  *                  *

He knew he was yelling and he knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but Benny couldn’t contain his frustration anymore.  Dr. Christopher Fucking Rolston had apparently disappeared as of yesterday afternoon.  Possibly right around the time that Cas saw him by Dr. Crowley’s office.  He lived alone and wasn’t at his house the night before when Benny had gone there right after talking to Cas.  They’d had officers watching it since, but no one had visited yet.  His car also hadn’t been sighted yet and now it was mid-morning and no one at Rolston’s medical practice had seen him.  No scheduled days off—just suddenly not showing up.  Benny didn’t believe in coincidences—this had to be his guy.  _Alastair._  

“We need to get everyone available out there interviewing everyone this guy knows.  We need to know who his friends are, where he hangs out, what he’s into, where he would go if he was in trouble—everything you can find.  Let’s go!”  He turned to Walker.  “We need to get a property search, too.  See if he owns any other property.  And not just around here, get it done in Memphis and Des Moines, too.”

 _Goddamnit._   He wished Cas hadn’t let the prick know they were onto him before Benny had figured out who he was and tracked him down.  On the other hand they did have a real name now.  And maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing for him to be on the run.  Surely having to lay low would interfere with any plans he had to go after Dean—or anyone else for that matter.

“Lafitte, your girl is here.  I put her in Interview 2,” the officer’s voice called out across the room.

“Yeah, thanks,” he called back.  _Ruby._ He couldn’t be sure she knew anything about Meg and Alastair, but until something came back on Rolston, she was one of the only leads he had that he could work with and it was better than sitting on his hands.

*                  *                  *

Dean was almost embarrassed by how much he loved this place.  He had always avoided chick flick crap like this.  But live and in person the scents made the genuine joy and love being shared in the meetings and reunions taking place at the Omega Center undeniable.  He was watching a woman, who had come out from the Center a few minutes earlier, sitting on the ground with a little boy, maybe 8 or 9 years old, who was earnestly explaining to her—while gesturing with his Thor action figure—about Asgardian gods, travel portals, and what made Loki both bad and good. 

Dean leaned over to bump his head up against Cas’s shoulder and say something, but the alpha was turned away, facing the parking lot to look at something.  Dean turned and saw that Cas was looking at two men standing next to a car in the second row of parking spots.  He smiled, thinking they were clearly a couple and apparently missed each other a lot, as the larger man was leaning over and against the smaller man, who’s back was pressed up tight against the side of the car.  Dean turned and looked back across the lawn area and his eyes fell on an older couple sitting on a bench.  They were holding hands and their eyes were closed, although the man’s head was tilted down and toward the woman and his mouth was moving as he talked to her.  Dean wondered if he was just telling her about his week, sharing a family story, or maybe reassuring her and praising her as Cas had so often been doing for him these last weeks. 

He leaned against Cas and became aware of a sharp, burnt odor coming from the alpha.  Dean turned to look back at the parking lot and what he saw suddenly seemed so different.  One of the smaller man’s arms was wrapped behind his own back and his eyes were wide with fear as the larger man twisted that arm.  Before Dean could react, Cas’s anger scent exploded around them and Cas took off across the grass.  “Fuck!” Dean thought and scrambled for his crutches to hobble after him. 

Cas grabbed the aggressive man—a beta, Dean thought, as he was getting closer—by the collar and wrenched him away from the other, throwing him back and sliding his own body in front of the omega.  “How dare you touch him like that!” Cas growled, low and seething.  His face was iron and the bright blue eyes had gone dull and flat.  He glared at the beta, though Dean could see his eyes also tracking Dean as he reached the scene and walked behind Cas to approach the omega. 

“Are you alright?” Dean asked quietly. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” the man said.  He was rubbing his arm, but Dean didn’t scent a strong pain odor from him so thought he must not have anything broken. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Kevin.”  He had his head down, not looking at Dean, Cas, or the angry beta.   

“Kevin, why don’t we go inside?” Dean said and gestured gently with his head toward the Center door. 

“That’s my husband!” the beta shouted.  “You get the fuck away from him!” Dean was looking at Kevin, so he wasn’t sure if the order was intended for him or Cas.  Not that he gave a fuck either way.  Kevin startled and cringed against the car again. 

“Kevin, my name is Dean.  I’m an omega and as you can see, I’m in basically no condition to be any threat.  Plus my feet are kind of killing me here.  So how ‘bout we go inside and sit down while they hash this out?” 

“But Zeke…” 

“Don’t worry, Cas’ll take care of Zeke.  Come on.”  And he started slowly to the door, praying that Kevin would follow, and after just a couple steps he did.     

“You little omega piece of trash, you better get away from him.  He’s mine.”  The man was baiting Cas.  Or Dean.  Or both.  Dean kept walking.  He was fighting with himself.  Before all of this—before he was injured, before Cas was around, he would have decked this prick if he could.  And since Zeke was just a beta and clearly a brash idiot, Dean probably could.  But he knew Cas wouldn’t want him to risk getting hurt.  Hell, he kind of didn’t want to get hurt.  And he didn’t have to today.  Cas was here.  “He’s going home with me and we’re gonna unlearn whatever fucking bullshit you sissyass pricks have been teaching him in here.”  _Ignore it.  He doesn’t matter.  I’m in no condition.  Cas has got this.  And Kevin doesn’t need to be around this—I need to get him inside where they can care for him and get him somewhere else to go._  

“Get back here, motherfucker!”  _Fuck this._   Dean turned around just in time to see Cas’s fist slam into the man’s face.  Zeke staggered back, then roared and came rushing at Cas, who just stood there and then stepped aside at the last moment and slammed his elbow into the man’s back as he passed.  The beta dropped to his hands and knees and stayed there for a few seconds.  
  
Two women from the Center came up behind Dean and Kevin and one of them began to usher Kevin inside as the other stood beside Dean and said, loud enough for Cas and Zeke to hear, “We’ve called and the police are on their way.” 

“Don’t get up,” Cas said to the man, his voice practically a snarl.  He wasn’t panting, didn’t look tired, scared, or really anything except angry and tight with the tension of controlling it.  Dean thought he was like a coiled spring, so contained and careful, but ready to burst with some dangerous kind of power if he were touched the wrong way. 

Of course, Zeke didn’t listen.  He pulled himself to his feet and glared at Cas.  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” 

“I’m the person who is recommending that you leave now.” 

Zeke swung at Cas, and Cas leaned back, grabbing Zeke’s arm as it went past and twisting it behind his back, slamming his chest up against the back panel of a van.  Dean’s eyes widened and his cock twitched in his pants.  _Holy fuck._   Dean was a good fighter, but Cas moved with unbelievable economy.  He looked like he barely made an effort and this shithead beta was bleeding, panting and grimacing in pain now. 

Zeke was spitting out profanities and squirming against the van as Cas generally ignored him and occasionally pulled his arm slightly tighter or leaned into him a bit.  Then Cas looked around and, seeing Dean, visibly relaxed and gave a sort of half-smile that Dean was sure meant he was embarrassed.  Embarrassed.  At overpowering a dickweed abusive husband who had been about to hurt his spouse.  Dean smiled back.  He didn’t know if Cas could tell, but his smile wasn’t the least fucking bit embarrassed. 

Dean turned to the Center, but Kevin had already disappeared inside and then a siren was approaching and the police car pulled in.  The officers separated Cas and Zeke and pressed them both up against separate sides of the police car.  After talking to them, Dean and the Center nurse, they handcuffed Zeke and put him in their vehicle, told Cas he was free to go, and went in the Center to talk to Kevin. 

Cas looked at Dean.  He seemed anxious, still wound up.  “I’m—” 

“Nope, no way,” Dean interrupted.  “No being sorry.  It was too fast, there was no time to get authorities.  You had to act.  You were amazing, Cas.”  
  
Cas closed his eyes for a heartbeat, then opened them again and said, “Dean, can we go home?”  His voice still sounded rough and strained. 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Dean said and started immediately back to the car.  He’d wanted to slide into Cas’s arms, up against his body and feel that alpha tension, but the parking lot probably wasn’t the place.  And maybe Cas was too wound up for that right now. 

The drive back was quiet.  Dean couldn’t think of anything to say—he couldn’t think of anything at all except Cas’s body and how it had moved as he effortlessly took down that beta.  His cock was more than half-hard and becoming uncomfortable in his pants, and Dean was just struggling to try to control his scent which he knew would be giving away his arousal.  He tried to scent Cas, but his own desire was so great and they were in his car which still smelled so strongly of him and even Sam that he couldn’t sense anything from Cas other than the usual peppermint and pine trees. 

Cas held the door for him as always and unlocked the house door as well, and Dean crutched his way inside and down the hall to the kitchen.  Just as he reached the kitchen, Cas came around from behind him and pressed his back to the wall, his mouth covering Dean’s in a searing kiss.  His body pressed up against Dean and Dean’s crutches clattered to the ground as he let go and wrapped his hands around Cas’s back.  Cas’s tongue licked at his lips until Dean opened his mouth and then Cas was kissing him like he wanted to devour him.  His tongue was exploring, touching, tasting, licking, everywhere.  He tasted like coffee and something a little spicy and he smelled like Christmas.  He ran his tongue over Dean’s teeth like he could memorize them.  When Dean’s tongue caressed his, Cas’s lips broke the seal slightly and he moaned and panted for a couple seconds then renewed his energy, sliding his tongue against Dean’s, caressing it and sucking the tip into his own mouth.  One of Cas’s hands slipped into Dean’s hair, took hold and tugged at the hair, dragging Dean’s head back and to the side.  Cas’s mouth slipped down Dean’s jaw and started licking, and sucking at Dean’s neck, making him tremble and shake whenever he bit at the most sensitive spots. 

“Cas,” Dean moaned.  He was hard and leaking inside his pants now and it was starting to hurt. 

“Dean, you smell incredible,” Cas growled and Dean felt his cock throb. 

“Cas, upstairs,” Dean panted, and this time Cas literally growled.

 


	34. Thirty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think you guys know what's coming. So to speak.

“Cas, upstairs,” Dean panted, and this time Cas literally growled.  But a moment later he acted, bending a little to get an arm under Dean’s knees and then Dean was swept up and seconds later almost thrown on the bed as Cas deposited him then climbed over him to straddle Dean’s body and start kissing him again. 

Dean’s entire body was electrified.  He knew he was grinding up against Cas like a needy tramp, but he _was_ needy.  He needed Cas _now_ —preferably his skin, against Dean’s, everywhere.  “Clothes…” Dean panted when Cas’s mouth slid onto his neck to bite and lick.  A bit of slick dribbled from Dean’s ass and he moaned.  “Cas, need…” 

Castiel stopped and rose up, his face above Dean’s, gazing at him in that intense way of his.  His blue eyes were dark now, a deep royal sort of blue and part of Dean wanted to sink into them—maybe just look and be looked at for a while.  But then his dick throbbed and Dean just felt hunger and need again. 

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas said and his voice was like a gravel road.  It sent more slick from Dean’s ass and made him feel slightly dizzy. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Dean said and enjoyed the way Cas’s pupils swelled and darkened.  “I want you to fuck me hard, right now.”  Cas barely moved but Dean could see how much he had affected the alpha.  Dean could see it now—Cas was holding himself back—his muscles clenched and taut, his eyes wide and dark, his breath heavy and fast.  He wanted to take Dean apart.  _Yes.  Yes, please!_  This Cas—this coiled spring version of the sensitive, careful alpha, was the hottest thing Dean had ever seen.  But he wasn’t moving.  Dean needed him to move.  He needed him to move _now_.  He needed to be touched.  He needed to feel Cas.  _Oh god!_   His ass clenched as his mind supplied a flash of Cas above him, pounding into him. 

Dean suddenly shoved into Cas’s side, tipping him over and off to one side of Dean, and leaned forward and scrambled for the straps of his boots.  _Off.  Need them off.  Off off off!_ He was shouting at the damn things in his mind. 

Then one of Cas’s hands was wrapped tightly around his wrist in a firm grip, holding Dean still.  “Dean, let me.  You will injure yourself.  We have to take care.”  It was the same gravel voice and it didn’t make sense to Dean that this hungry, dangerous, aroused alpha voice was saying the kind of thing the quiet, protective, careful Cas said.  But he couldn’t find any fight in him against that voice and he just watched as Cas moved to kneel by his legs and carefully release the straps on his boots and gently remove them, followed by his socks.  When he reached for the button of Dean’s pants and looked up at Dean, Dean groaned and lifted his hips up.  Cas pulled Dean’s jeans and briefs down and with utmost care freed Dean’s feet from them, discarding them on the floor, then straddled Dean’s legs.  His mouth hovered over Dean’s stiff, weeping cock and Dean stared for a moment.  Just as an edge of self-consciousness started to hit Dean, Cas leaned down and swiped a long lick from base to tip, then sucked the head into his mouth and suckled hard.  Dean’s body jerked and he groaned aloud.  _Oh fuck! So hot. Oh Cas! Yes yes yes don’t stop._  

But he did stop.  He pulled off and looked up at Dean.  Then he leaned forward and started pressing kisses against Dean’s skin just around and then above his cock, moving slowly up.  He nudged his face under Dean’s t-shirt, sliding it up and out of the way as he moved.  It was too gentle, too slow.  Dean wanted him to move fast, needed to feel more of him, feel the hardness of him, be taken by him.  Cas pressed gentle kisses and licks everywhere he went and Dean squirmed and writhed with need and want.  But Cas just kept licking and kissing, caressing Dean’s abdomen all over with his tongue, moving in little lines and angles and then Dean realized he was licking and kissing each one of his cuts.

Dean felt suddenly woozy and weak.  If he weren’t already laying down, he would have collapsed.  As it was, he stopped squirming, but his hands still clutched into the sheets, gripping tightly, trying to find something to keep him grounded.  He felt as if Cas were anointing him—consecrating him with his kisses—resurrecting him somehow.  It was too much, he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t prepared for these feelings.  And at the same time it was perfect, he wanted it, he needed it _.  I don’t…what do I…Cas stop…no, please…oh god, yes…don’t stop…I’m not…_    

Then Cas’s hand wrapped around his cock, and slid up to the head, gathering some precum and slicking his shaft up, starting to stroke him.  Dean moaned aloud—at least he thought it was him.  Cas’s grip was firm and strong and his pace was not slow—rather fast—a counterpoint to the soft light kisses and licks he was still using on Dean’s stomach.  Dean was leaking slick freely now, laying limp on the bed except for the clench of his hands in the sheets.  He had turned into just the skin of his stomach and the hard, urgent, throbbing need of his cock.  Cas’s hand was hot and the strength of it gripping him while his soft, wet mouth moved gently across Dean’s skin had Dean feeling hot and feverish.  “Cas…” Dean breathed, then suddenly he was coming hard, spilling over Cas’s fist and then watching as Cas bent down to clean him up, licking Dean’s come from his own hand and Dean’s cock and stomach. 

Dean felt like jello, unable to and not desiring to move.  He felt Cas tug at his shirt and with Cas’s help was able to lean up enough for Cas to take it off of him and drop it to the ground.  Then Cas dropped onto his side next to Dean.  He reached up a hand and started caressing Dean’s face gently, tracing his jaw and features with his fingers, occasionally leaning forward to kiss Dean’s face, mouth, or neck. 

“Dean, you are so beautiful,” Cas said, his eyes tracing the path of his fingers over Dean’s skin. 

“Cas,” Dean murmured.  It was all he was thinking. 

Cas smiled absently, still touching, as if absorbed with his fingers and eyes memorizing the contours of Dean’s face. 

Dean floated, closed his eyes, opened them again to find Cas still touching, still looking, still there.  He didn’t know how long he drifted, but after a while he was noticing other sensations again.  It started with a tingling of sensation in his ass, noticing how wet he was, noticing it was still a hot, desiring kind of wet.  Then he felt his cock throb gently.  Then he felt a pull as if his spine was a magnet pulling him to Cas’s.  He needed to touch, to feel.  He reached over and tugged at Cas’s shirt until the alpha pulled it over his head.  Cas’s chest was beautiful.  A bit of hair, muscular ridges leading down to just a touch of a stomach bulge, tanned skin, and he was surprised to see several tattoos.  He catalogued them to ask about later—an infinity symbol on one side, a maybe celtic or pagan design or symbol over his right shoulder, some Cyrillic lettering on the other side.   

For now, he reached over to unbutton and unzip Cas’s pants and try to tug them down.  Cas got the message and pulled them and his boxers off and Dean’s eyes fell on Cas’s cock, which was hard and…absolutely magnificent.  Dean had seen and held him before but had been wrapped up in watching Cas’s face as he fell apart for Dean.  Now he reached down to touch and caress, enjoying the silky soft feel of Cas’s skin over the hard fullness that it contained.  It was exactly like Cas himself—a coiled spring, all hard, tight strength, held in and controlled but seething and swollen with power.  He leaned over and pressed up against Cas, kissing him, sliding his tongue into Cas’s mouth as if he could pass on to him this way his own need and desire.  They kissed and Dean continued idly touching Cas, enjoying every moan and shudder he got from the alpha. 

“Dean…” Cas whispered eventually, “Are you still…do you still want…” 

“Fuck yeah, Cas.  I want you inside me.” 

Cas moaned and pulled Dean tight up against him, grinding their cocks together and biting down hard on Dean’s neck.  Dean heard a loud, needy whimper come from his own mouth and pulled his hand from between them to reach around and grab Cas’s ass, pulling him tighter, closer.  He was hard again and already starting to leak precum.  His dick slid and slipped and rubbed against Cas’s even larger, even harder cock and it felt like a promise.  “Cas,” Dean started to say, then Cas was pulling away, moving, sliding down the bed, slotting between Dean’s legs, lifting and pushing them up against Dean’s chest, pushing his face in between the cheeks of Dean’s ass and his tongue was already sliding along the crack, against his perineum and the up along his ballsac.  Dean shook and grabbed at one leg with his free arm.  _Oh Jesus. Oh fuck._  

“Dean,” Cas murmured under his breath, making it sound like a prayer, then he held Dean’s ass open with tightly gripping fingers that dug into Dean’s ass and made him feel possessed and owned.  Cas licked lightly over Dean’s hole once, said “So fucking gorgeous” and then his tongue plunged into Dean, fucking into him, licking up his slick.  The sounds Cas made were loud and slurpy and nasty and Dean loved them.  He bit his bottom lip to try to keep from moaning and panting too loud, wanting to hear everything Cas was doing as he felt it.  Cas’s tongue slid all over him and inside him, stabbing into him and then swirling around his rim.  And then a finger was joining in with Cas’s tongue, but it slid in further, more insistent, rubbing the sides of his tunnel, moving in and out. 

Dean’s pelvis rocked into Cas’s mouth, wanting it—wanting to be fucked by Cas, his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his cock—everything.  Cas slid in another finger and Dean felt no stretch at all, just the smooth slide, a little more full, a little more satisfying, a little closer to right.  Cas’s mouth slid up and he suckled Dean’s balls, one at a time, fucking Dean with his fingers. 

“Casss,” Dean whined.  _Whined._   “Fuck me, Cas.”  He wasn’t going to say please.  _I’m not gonna fucking beg._  

Cas looked up and smiled, his head still bowed slightly, moving up, running his tongue along the base of Dean’s cock.  “I’m going to, Dean.  We’re just going to be extra safe this first time.” Dean could hear the teasing in Cas’s voice.  He was having fun.  _Fucking fun!_ Turning Dean into a writhing, squirming mess of omega hormones and slick and need.  “We wouldn’t want to reinjure you.”  Cas sucked Dean’s cock gently into his mouth and suckled lightly.  His fingers caressed Dean’s ass, opening out, rubbing, curling, exploring.  _Oh._   Something in Dean’s chest flipped and swirled about briefly.  Cas _was_ having fun.  But he also meant it—meant to make very sure that Dean was healed and wouldn’t be hurt again.  Then Cas sucked hard and slid down on Dean’s cock, sucking him in to the base and Dean’s hips rocked up into him then back down onto Cas’s fingers and Dean was fucking Cas’s mouth and fucking himself on Cas’s fingers and he didn’t know what he wanted more and he couldn’t stop and everything felt so good and then Cas pulled back and he was reaching into a drawer, pulling out a condom, putting it on, lubing himself up, all while Dean was still panting and realizing that it was finally happening. 

“Oh God, yes, Cas.  Fuck yesss.  Fuck me.  Oh god.  I want you.” 

Cas looked down at him, stroking himself with one hand, scooting up to slot his thighs under Dean’s ass.  Dean wrapped his legs around Cas’s waist and Cas gave Dean a pointed look and said, “Watch your toes,” in a deep commanding voice.  Dean nodded in agreement, a bit bewildered by Cas’s forceful tone and then Cas looked back down and was lining himself up and Dean could feel the head of his cock against his rim.  Cas raised his eyes to Dean’s and then pushed.  There wasn’t any pain, just a slight discomfort and stretch as Cas slipped past Dean’s rim.  He didn’t stop, just slowly pushed in further and Dean could feel as the fullness moved further and further up into him until Cas was pressed up against Dean’s ass and all Dean knew was being filled up. 

Cas was still holding Dean’s gaze.  Looking at Dean and Dean was mesmerized.  Something about Cas’s stare was penetrating him at the same time his cock did.  And it was…it was more…it was so much.  Dean felt the force of it—Cas’s stare was all intention and desire and purpose.  Cas intended him to feel.  Meant for him to feel this pleasure.  This fullness.  To feel Cas.  Inside of him.  So big.  So hot.  So hard and powerful. 

“Fuck Cas.  Move.”  _Please._  

He did.  He pulled almost out, slow and steady, then pushed back in.  He started to fuck Dean in long thrusts, slow and indulgent.  Dean rocked into him and pulled him closer with his legs and Cas just stared into Dean’s eyes and fucked him.  Pushed into him, pulled out, over and over, slow, steady, keeping eye contact and not even breathing hard.  Dean was a mess.  He was breathing heavy, practically panting, letting out moans when Cas was buried inside him and whimpers when he was nearly out.  He needed something.  He needed more. 

“Cas,” he said.  His voice sounded like begging.  He knew it.  He _was_ begging. 

“Dean, I have never felt anything this exquisite.  Being inside you…you’re perfect.” 

“Cas,” Dean begged again.  His hips rocked up to meet Cas.  His good hand clutched at Cas’s knee.  Slick slid from his ass and trickled down his crack. 

Then finally, it happened.  Dean almost imagined he could see a tendril of scent rise up from his own slick and ass to Cas’s nose.  He did see Cas inhale and his rhythm break and he suddenly gripped Dean’s hips more tightly.  His mouth dropped open and Dean thought he heard a whispered “Dean,” then Cas slammed into him all the way, hard, harder than Dean was ready for.  He was scooted two inches up the bed and threw his good hand up to press against the headboard.  And finally Cas was fucking him.  Really fucking him.  Rutting into him fast and hard like he could never get in deep enough, like he wanted to crawl up inside Dean’s body.  His dick felt huge and Dean felt stuffed and stretched. 

Dean started panting, his own hips in a constant rocking motion trying to meet Cas’s thrusts.  Cas shifted, tilted Dean’s ass up even higher on his thighs and pulled one of Dean’s legs to lay along his chest up against his neck.  He wrapped an arm around Dean’s leg and fucked in again and the head of his cock stabbed into Dean’s prostate and electricity shot up Dean’s spine and his cock at the same time.  “Oh fuck,” Dean groaned and he saw Cas smile, then Cas was pounding straight into that spot, slamming into Dean again, hard and fast.  And finally Cas was panting and shuddering and looked the way Dean felt and Dean watched him drop his head back, soaking in the feelings along with Dean and Dean pulled his hand back from Cas’s knee over to his own cock, fisting it to the same rhythm Cas was fucking him to as he stared at the expanse of Cas’s chest stretching up into his long neck. 

Dean fell over the edge after half a dozen strokes, groaning out Cas’s name and spasming around Cas.  He saw Cas’s head fly forward to look down and then felt him fall forward onto his arms on either side of Dean’s chest, and fuck into Dean a half dozen more times.  Then Cas buried himself inside Dean, shuddering, eyes closed.  Dean felt Cas’s cock spasm and wished the condom were gone so he could feel the warm heat of Cas’s come spreading inside him.  But it was still fucking amazing and Cas looked flawless between Dean’s legs with his eyes closed and his mouth a tight little line.  He stared openly as Cas paused there like that, frozen in the aftermath of his orgasm.  Then Cas opened his eyes, gently extricated himself and slid under Dean’s leg, still taking obvious care to avoid touching his toes to anything, and dropped down on the bed next to Dean.  He took Dean’s hand and twined their fingers together, turning his head to look at Dean. 

Dean looked at Cas, his blue eyes still dark, like a lake at night.  And he wanted more.  _Shit._   He was going to lose the battle against begging.


	35. Thirty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny interviews Ruby again; Cas and Dean have a moment

“Ms. Masters,” Benny said, sitting down across the table from her.  “Thank you for coming in.” 

She raised her eyebrows.  “I wasn’t aware that I had much of a choice, Detective.”  She put weight on his title as if to point out it was a response to their setting or how he had addressed her. 

Benny chose not to respond to her comment.  “Would you like some water or coffee, Ms. Masters?” 

She sighed.  “Ruby.  No, I’m fine.  Let’s get on with this.” 

“Certainly.  Ruby.  I appreciate your assistance before—giving us access to Meg’s laptop and her computer and phone records.  I have some follow up questions about Meg I was hoping you could help me with.” 

“Of course you do.  Meg always caught everyone’s attention.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Never mind, just ignore me.  You know how it is with sisters.”  She tossed her hair slightly, played with her fingernails.  The casual gestures rang false to Benny. 

“Well, I never had one, but I imagine they can get on your nerves.” 

She squinted at him.  Said nothing. 

“When we spoke before, you said you believed Meg…had sadistic tendencies.  Sexually.” 

Ruby hummed slightly in agreement. 

“Did Meg attend any specific BDSM related bars or clubs that you were aware of?” 

“You have her laptop.” 

“Yes.  I’m asking you, though, Ruby.  I’m asking you about what you saw.” 

She shrugged.  “Yeah, a couple.” 

“Any names?” 

Ruby sighed.  Picked at her fingernails.  Looked annoyed.  “That Hell’s Gate place in Columbia.  And some bar out west on 59.  I don’t know the name—never been there, but I heard her talk about it.” 

“Did you ever go with her to Hell’s Gate?” 

Ruby stopped moving.  Still looking at her nails.  Looked up at Benny and flashed him a smile.  “Sure,” she said, casual and flirtatious again.  “I like to have to have fun, too.” 

“Is that right?” Benny asked, leaning forward.  “And what’s fun to you?” 

She blinked. 

“It’s okay, Ruby, you can tell me.  It isn’t illegal to enjoy a little adult fun now and again.” 

“Detective,” she still said it long and drawn out, “am I under arrest?” 

“Of course not.” 

She leaned forward over the table, eyes on Benny’s.  “So let me ask you something.  What is this all about?  What did Meg do that has you tracking down all the sordid little details of her life months after she topped herself?” 

“I’m not certain Meg did anything.  That’s what I’m trying to find out.” 

“Mmhmm.  Okay.  So, we’re just twiddling our thumbs here?  So you don’t really need anything from me?  And if I’m not under arrest, then I think I’d rather just go and maybe get a pedicure.”  But she didn’t get up—didn’t make any move to leave, just leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Okay, Ruby.  I’m investigating a brutal assault on an omega.  And it may be tied to two other cases.  Homicides.” 

She didn’t move, but Benny thought he saw discomfort in her anyway.  A swallow.  A slight tightening up.  She was brash and flirty—something a little trashy about her.  Definitely the kind of woman who would lie and likely steal to get what she wanted.  Use people.  But she didn’t seem violent.  And Benny didn’t think she was a killer.   

“I don’t think Meg is my perpetrator, but she’s connected.  And I’m just trying to figure out how.  I’m just trying to put the puzzle together, Ruby.  So help me out.  Did you ever go to Hell’s Gate with Meg?” 

“Yes, a few times.” 

“Did you meet any of the people Meg was involved with?” 

Ruby laughed.  It was a harsh, ugly sort of laugh.  “What do you mean ‘involved’?” 

“I mean anything, Ruby.  Had sex with.  ‘Scened’ with at the club.  Dating.  In love.  Whatever.  You tell me.” 

“I met a couple of her playthings.  She was never…didn’t have long term relationships.” 

“Do you remember their names?  Genders?  Anything else stick out about them?” 

“Names?  No.  I met two betas there at the club with her that I know she played with later those nights.  Both men, regular submissive lonely types.  And I think I met an omega once that she was trying to...convince.  A woman, older but hot.  Hotter than most of the types who are looking for a sadist like Meg.”  She looked at Benny then winked.  “In my opinion.” 

Benny slid his folder over in front of him and pulled out the photos of Bela, Adam and Dean.  “Do you recognize any of these people?” 

Ruby looked, scanned the photos.  Nothing.  She looked up at Benny.  “Nope.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She smirked, paused, then looked back down.  He had the distinct feeling she was humoring him.  She leaned back again.  “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“How about this man?”  He slid over Christopher Rolston’s drivers license photograph. She looked down and didn’t move for a second.  Two seconds.  Five seconds.  _Fuck yes!  She knows him._    

He waited five more seconds and she still hadn’t looked back up.  He leaned forward and laid his hand on the table next to the photo.  “Who is he, Ruby?” 

She was smiling, a too large and too cheerful smile when she lifted her head.  “He’s our uncle Chris.  What does he have to do with your mystery puzzle?” 

“Was Meg close to him?” 

“Yeah, of course.  We both were.  Are.  He’s like a father to us, took care of us after ours died.  Especially Meg, she was only 8, so, you know, she really needed…someone.” 

Benny thought of Meg’s reference to ‘Father’ in one of her emails to Dean.  “So he was a good surrogate for your father?” 

“Sure.  He’s great.  He gave us everything we needed.”  Ruby’s demeanor was off now.  She was still too smiley, too positive.   

Benny rested his arms on the table, leaning into her, but in a casual way.  “So you and Meg were both equally close with Dr. Rolston?”  
  
“Nah.  Meg, she was…they were close from day one.  He never had kids, and she was still young enough he could spoil her and she would work so hard to make him proud.  It just was easy.  With me, I was already a teenager, didn’t really care if he liked me or not.  I mean, he still took care of me—he paid off our parents’ house for us and paid for school and all that.  But Meg was his little darling.”  The smile had turned bitter now.   

“So, they were still close all the way up until she died?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you think your uncle was aware of Meg’s…sexual proclivities?” 

Ruby snorted.  “Yeah, you could say that.” 

“Why do you say it that way?” Ruby’s mouth twisted in a sinister sort of sneer.  “Because the first time she went to Hell’s Gate, he took her there.  For her twenty-first birthday.” 

 _Y_ _es!  I fucking knew it.  What were the odds Meg was going there with two different older gray-bearded men?  Rolston_ had _to be Alastair._   “So do you think your uncle introduced Meg to that sort of lifestyle?” 

“Lifestyle?”  Meg raised an eyebrow at Benny.  “Look, I get it.  And fine, if you wanna know about this shit I’ll tell you.  Yes, our uncle is a sadist, too.  And yes, he trained Meg.  She took to it like a duck to fucking water.  So it wasn’t that he pushed her or seduced her into it or some shit.  It was always in her and he saw it in her.  He saw it waiting there and he didn’t abuse her—or at least he never abused me and I never saw him treat her any way other than as a doting father.  But they were peas in a pod, he knew it and when she was old enough, he brought her to the club and let her see what it was about.  And she was into it.  From the start it’s all she wanted to do with ever minute of her day.  She was sort of obsessed—saw it as an ‘art’ or some shit.” 

“I mean, it isn’t like they had sex together or even participated in scenes together once she was doing her own Dom-y type crap.  At least I don’t think so.  That’s now how she talked about it.  He showed her some things but then she just met up with people and did her own thing and played and practiced and explored and all that.  But even though he wasn’t in a room with her and her…partners or whatever…he was still the whole point of it for her.” 

Ruby paused.  Looked down for a minute then back at Benny.  “When she was little she would work hard at school and in these dance classes she was into to do anything to make Uncle Chris proud.  And this was the same thing.  She would take pictures of…what she had done to people and she would send them to him and his reaction was everything.  Sometimes he would say that they were beautiful, that she was a talented artist, crap like that.  And she would be over the moon for a week.  She would shower affection on that person, want to meet up with them all the time.  But sometimes he wouldn’t react at all or he would say something negative—I don’t know what exactly—and she would either rage and storm and break shit or would just sit in her room for a couple days without moving or bathing or eating or anything.” 

Ruby sounded sad now and was staring down at the table, her voice flat.  “I worried about her, but she wouldn’t listen to me.  She wouldn’t talk to anyone.  I didn’t know what to do.” 

“So you don’t think they were engaged in any sexual activities together?” 

“No.  No way.  He…never looked at her that way.  She never talked about him that way.” 

“So you think it was more of a…mentor/protégé sort of relationship?” 

Ruby nodded.  “Yeah, I guess that’s a good way of putting it.” 

“So was Meg especially depressed before she committed suicide?” 

“No.  I mean, yeah, but, not just like suddenly.  She’d been more depressed than usual for months.  It didn’t seem especially worse those last few days or that week or anything.  She’d been sad and unhappy and angry in cycles for what seemed like a while.  I don’t know how long for sure, but sometime in the fall or the beginning of the winter.” 

“Do you think that was connected to Dr. Rolston’s criticism of her…art…then?” 

“I don’t know.  I don’t see how.  She’d taken those things hard, but always got over it after a few days.  But I don’t know.  Maybe.  She wouldn’t talk to me.  Said I didn’t understand her.” 

“So, if not his criticism then, do you think it was something else related to her sadism activities that pushed her to suicide?” 

“I said I don’t know!” Ruby snapped at him.  After a few seconds, she offered more quietly, “I don’t…know.” 

“Okay, Ruby, that’s fine,” Benny said.  “I’d like to talk to your uncle.  We have his address as 111 Galway Place—is that right?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“And does he have any other property?  A vacation home or somewhere else he stays sometimes?” 

“There’s my dad’s cabin up at the lake.  We all use it.  He has a key.  But he never takes time off work, so I can’t remember the last time he was up there.” 

“Does he have a girlfriend?  Or a boyfriend?” 

“I don’t know.  Why don’t you ask him?”  She looked tired now—hostile. 

“Okay, well, I don’t have anything else for you right now, Ruby.  I’ll have one of the officers take you home.”  He stood up and waited for her to do the same. 

“I know Meg liked to hurt people, but you don’t think she’s the one—you don’t think she killed anyone, do you?” 

Benny was surprised by how vulnerable Ruby suddenly looked. 

“No.  Like I said, Ruby, Meg isn’t a suspect.” She stared at him hard for a moment, then turned to head for the door. 

As Benny held the door for her, he said, “Thank you, Ruby.” 

She kept walking. 

*                  *                  * 

“Dean,” Cas groaned.  He looked down and a jolt of electricity shot through him at the sight of Dean’s lips wrapped around his cock and those leaf green eyes looking up at him.  _Fuck.  Dean knew exactly what he was doing._   Cas felt like he was some instrument that Dean was just practicing on—playing and toying with to perfect his technique.  Dean held his gaze and his tongue slipped briefly into his slit and then swirled around his head.  Cas shuddered and the hand he had buried in Dean’s hair clenched tightly.  Dean closed his eyes and let out a little sound from deep in his throat.  Cas wasn’t the only one affected by this.  Dean had been settled between his legs for quite a while now—Cas couldn’t be sure of the passage of time—and he was obviously enjoying tasting and feeling Cas’s cock, exploring him with his mouth.  He had demanded that Cas lay still and permit this.  “I want to suck you off, Cas.  I want to feel you fill my mouth the way you filled my ass.”  And when he looked at Cas’s dick he’d said, “Fuck, Cas.  You’re big.  Like porn star big.”  Then he’d raised his eyes to look up at Cas from under his long eyelashes, obviously knowing how hot it looked, and said, with a Dean sort of smirk, “This is gonna be fun.”  Then he’d plunged down immediately onto Cas’s cock, taking him all the way in, Cas’s head sliding into Dean’s tight throat, and swallowing around Cas and making him shake and shudder against the bed and scramble for something to hold onto.  Picking Dean’s hair for one of his hands may not have been the best idea, but Dean seemed to like it as every time Cas pulled on his hair it made Dean moan and squirm.   

When he opened his eyes again, Dean renewed his energy working on Cas’s cock, sliding up and down, his wet lips creating an amazing suction and his mouth a perfect tunnel of soft, wet, heat.  His throat worked Cas’s cock and the alpha had never felt anything like it.  No one had ever taken him this far down before and his mind was short circuiting entirely.  He didn’t know when it started, but he was rambling nonsense words almost constantly now, just an endless rain of “Oh god…yes…Dean…so good…fuck…your mouth…so beautiful…Oh fuck…god…Dean…you’re so good for me…so perfect…Dean…yes…fuck…”  Dean’s mouth was devouring him and he needed to come so badly but he never wanted it to stop.  Dean ground his face into Cas’s pelvis, his lips wrapped tight around Cas’s cock, taking him in all the way, then sliding wetly back up the shaft, his tongue caressing Cas’s length then swirling around the head as he suckled there for a moment before bobbing his head back down.  Cas was panting and babbling praise and profanities and clutching at Dean’s hair with one hand and his own thigh with the other.  “Dean…so good…so fucking perfect…perfect omega…perfect man…never known…Dean…your mouth…so good for me…” 

Cas’s hand pulled involuntarily at Dean’s hair again and Dean moaned loudly in the back of his throat.  The vibration made Cas shake and tug even harder and Dean began thrusting his face fast and hard up and down Cas’s cock, sucking hard. 

“Dean, I…I can’t…”  He’d meant to say something about how he couldn’t hold back any longer, but he had looked down again.  Dean wasn’t looking up at him this time, but somehow it was even hotter this way—Dean was so focused, so intent, he looked so hungry, ravenous… _for Castiel_.  Cas felt his orgasm swell and burst and he watched Dean swallow and suck, his eyes closed.  Cas pulsed steadily into Dean’s throat and the hand on his thigh rose up to touch Dean’s check, feeling the hollowed out cheek, a faint sense of the swallowing motion of Dean’s throat and tongue.  As Cas’s orgasm subsided, Dean pulled back a bit and eventually off completely, his head dropping down to rest on Cas’s thigh.  Cas scratched his nails lightly over Dean’s scalp, running this fingers through the short, spiky hair. 

After a few minutes, Dean slid up to lay alongside Cas, head on his shoulder and one leg thrown of Cas’s.  Cas’s head was spinning with everything that had happened.  He was ashamed of having nearly assaulted Dean earlier after the incident at the Omega Center.  He had been too emotionally charged—too filled with pent up energy from holding back the violence he had wanted to do to that…man.  He knew he hadn’t forced Dean, but the omega had been affected, too, and it had certainly made a difference in what happened.  What if Dean wasn’t ready?  He had been through so much, and Cas knew his feelings weren’t as strong as the alpha’s were for Dean.  How would he ever live with having rushed Dean into something too soon? 

“Cas, you’re doing that thing again.” 

“What?” 

“That thing where you think too hard.” 

“I…Dean…maybe we…should talk about this?”  He hated how timid he sounded, but he didn’t want to force Dean to talk, either, if he wasn’t ready. 

Dean sighed, though his scent still smelled happy and content, no hint of anger or frustration that Cas could find.  Dean pulled back slight, laid his head on the pillow, tilted to look at Cas. 

“Okay, Cas.  Let’s talk.” “I…are you…I didn’t…”  Cas growled internally.  At himself.  “Are you certain you’re okay with this…new direction in our relationship?” 

To Cas’s surprise, Dean smiled.  A soft, genuine sort of smile.  He reached his good hand up, rested his arm across Cas’s chest and cupped Cas’s jaw with his palm.  “Cas, I am more than okay with this.  I think this is fucking amazing and I want to be doing this with you all the time.” 

Cas made a sort of strangled noise in his throat and felt a tear fall from the corner of his eye.   _Oh fuck._  

Dean reached up and wiped it away with his thumb.  “And just think, since I can’t go back to work for a few weeks still how much time we have and all the things we can do…”  He licked his lips suggestively. 

Sparks ran down Cas’s spine and his dick twitched with interest, despite his having come so recently and so spectacularly.  He held his breath for a moment, willing his cock into submission, pulled Dean close again and kissed the top of his head.  “Well then I guess we’d better get ourselves some dinner.  For sustenance.”


	36. Thirty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something disturbs the bliss

Cas was trying.  He was trying not to need this so much.  Not to smother.  Not to constantly press some part of himself against whatever bit of Dean’s skin he could.  Not to get online or rush out into the world and buy him everything he could think of—flowers, something gold, green things to match his eyes, accessories or tools for baby, maybe an entire workbench and full set of tools, workbenches and chests he could set up in his basement, books about brave, adventurous people like the rabbits of Watership Down (or like Dean), plane tickets and resort reservations for a trip to some exotic beach where Dean could swim and sun and surf, stereo components and high-powered speakers so Dean could play his music properly in Cas’s house, a giant screen TV for Dean to watch all of smash-em-up films.  

He was trying not to ask him to move in.  Not to repeat more than once every five minutes or so how beautiful Dean was.  Not to propose to him.  Not to call his attorney to rewrite his will to name Dean as sole beneficiary of everything he owned.  Not to wonder if there was some way to give Dean everything he was—everything that mattered to him in his heart.  But how could he give Dean…Dean?  He was trying not to think about the future.

And he was trying to work, too.  He was in his office, trying to get responses back to his editor, trying to be responsible.  And Dean was on the other side of the door somewhere, being and healing and growing more and more gorgeous and vital and…precious.  

A light knock on the door startled him, and then the door was clicking open and Dean was leaning in through the crack.

“Hey Cas, I was wondering if after you’re done there you would go over to my house and get a few things for me?  I would go, but a couple of the tools I want are up in the attic and I thought you and Doc would be happier if I didn’t try the ladder with my boots on.”

A tingling warmth spread through Cas’s shoulders.  “Of course, Dean, I’d be happy to.  I’m actually almost done, so I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Okay great, thanks.”  The door shut behind Dean.

Cas stared after him thinking that Dean could easily have gone next door while Cas was working and he likely would have been able to do what he needed and even carry everything back while using crutches.  Dean was a strong, capable man.  He knew Dean didn’t technically need the help.   _But he knew how I would feel about it.  He came to me so I wouldn’t worry or be hurt._  The tingling in his shoulders spread into his torso, filling his chest and making him feel warm and full—cared for.

He turned back to the computer and finished his notes, sending them off to his editor, then headed out to the kitchen.  Dean was bending over the counter, making a list.  After a minute, he straightened and handed the list to Cas.

“So I wrote where everything is.  I don’t think you should have any trouble, but you can call.  Or I can come with you?”

Cas scanned the list.  “No need, I’ll call you if I can’t find anything, but it looks pretty self explanatory.”  And Cas had been in Dean’s house to clean it and knew how neatly organized Dean kept everything.  They both knew what Cas really meant was that he wanted to protect Dean from having to be there—still so soon after what had happened there.

It took Cas longer than he expected, partly because he took the time to double-check all of Dean’s doors and windows, run the water taps briefly and adjust the thermostat.  So it was about 45 minutes later when he carried two boxes of tools, clothes and DVD’s through the door.

The second he was over the threshold he smelled it.  Someone else was there.  Maybe not an alpha but…someone.  Dr. Sexy was playing on the tv, but Dean was not in the living room.  Cas dropped the boxes and rushed to the kitchen.  No one.  He inhaled deeply and the scent was definitely there, too.  It was light, but definitely there.

“Dean?” he called, rushing to his office, then the garage, checking the back door.  “Dean!” He was yelling.  He knew he was panicking.  He tore up the stairs to Dean’s room, threw open the door without knocking, yelling Dean’s name again.  He wasn’t there.   _Oh god oh god, how could I have left him alone?_ He careened out of the room and down the hall to the master bedroom and just as he burst in, Dean came out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel, and looking startled.  But safe.  And whole.

“What’s wrong, Cas?”

Cas looked around frantically.  Inhaled.  Nothing.  Just him and Dean.  Lots of him and Dean.  No hint of that…other scent.  He turned around and retraced his steps, sniffing, trying to find that scent again.  Nothing anywhere upstairs.  As he reached the head of the steps, Dean had come to the bedroom door and was standing in it, watching him.

“I’m sorry, Dean.  I thought…nevermind.”  He started down, still inhaling, still searching.  As he reached the bottom of the stairs it was there again.

After searching every room, he found nothing amiss, but the foreign scent was still lingering in the living room, hallway, kitchen and garage.  He reset the alarm and went to his office to call Benny.

“Lafitte.”

“He was here.”

“What?” Benny’s voice immediately clipped and urgent.  “When?  Is Dean alright?”

“Dean is fine.  Nothing happened.  I went over to Dean’s to get some things and when I came back I could…his scent was here.  Inside my house.  Dean was here, he was just upstairs.  He could have…”  Cas sank into his office chair.

“You didn’t see him?  Did you see a car?”

“No, I didn’t see him or see or hear any vehicles.  The doors are all locked still, but the front door was unlocked while I was gone and I…I left the alarm…” _Oh god oh fuck.  Dean. I’m supposed to…_  He felt weak as if some demon creature were hovering above him, draining all of his vitality and strength.

“How long were you gone?”

“I think 40 minutes?  I thought it would just be ten minutes, but it took longer.”  Unknowingly he murmured, “Fuck.”

“Castiel, stop.  Whatever you’re doing in your head isn’t going to help.”  Benny’s voice was strong, weighty and Cas clung to it.

“Yes, of course.  You’re right.  What else do you need?”

“I’m sending a team over.  I want you—”

“No,” Cas blurted.  “I haven’t said anything to Dean.  I don’t want him to worry.  If he knows that—”

“Jesus, Novak.  You thought you’d just hide this from him?”  Benny’s usually unperturbed tone sounded almost appalled.  When Cas didn’t say anything, Benny groaned quietly.  “You haven’t told him that prick was following you guys, either, have you?”

“No.”   _I can’t.  He deserves to be happy, to feel safe._

“He’s not your child.  He deserves to know what’s going on.  He needs to know.  You and I are can try to keep him safe, but he’s making choices, too, every day.  Where he lives, where he goes or doesn’t go.  And he needs all the information.  For fuck’s sake.”

_ He needs to be safe.  He needs a better protector.  He needs that psycho to be in prison.  Or in the ground. _

“Castiel?”

“I hate when you call me that.”

“I know.  Now listen, I’m sending a team over and I’ll be a little bit behind them, but I’ll get there as soon as I can.  I want you to do a full inventory of all the rooms again and make certain what, if anything, has been disturbed.  Don’t touch it.  Just make a note and tell the team when they arrive.  And I would recommend that you tell Dean about this before they get there.”

Cas’s gut was clenching and his head was pounding.  “Yes.  Okay.”  He hung up the phone.  Then he forced himself to his feet.  When he got to the stairs, Dean was just reaching the bottom and said, “Are you okay, Cas?”

“Dean, I…”   _I let the psycho who tortured and abused you get into our house.  With you._ His hands were clenched into tight fists and a giant knot was blocking his throat, restricting and refusing to let him get any words out.

Cas saw Dean look behind him, register the boxes on the floor, tipped over, their contents spilling out into the living room.  He looked back, met Cas’s eyes.  Said nothing.  Just waited.

“Detective…Benny is sending over a team.  I believe someone was in the house while I was gone.”  It was out.  He was breathing.

Dean raised an eyebrow.  Inhaled deeply.  “Someone?”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.”  Dean inhaled again.  “I don’t smell anything but us.”

“It’s faint.  But it’s there, Dean.  At least to me, it’s there.”

“Alpha?”

“No.  Maybe.  I don’t know.”

“You think it’s him.”  Dean didn’t flinch.  Didn’t move.  Didn’t smell frightened.

Was he really just supposed to acknowledge that?  Benny would.  Gabriel would tell him he should.  He didn’t know what Bobby would want him to do.  He nodded.

They stood there…four feet apart.  Some new distance between them.  Cas felt more uncertain than he had since that first day at the hospital.  Did Dean think he was crazy?  Was Dean angry?  Was he amused?  He didn’t smell like anything but Dean.

Finally, Dean said, “So, you called Benny and said you thought someone was here, someone you can barely smell and he just sent a team over?”  

“Yes.  He’s coming as soon as he can as well.”

“Cas, what the fuck?  There’s something else.  Just fucking say it.”  

Cas drew in a breath.  It took a moment, but he managed, “I saw a man watching us earlier this week.”

This time Dean did flinch.  It was small, barely perceptible, but Cas felt it in his bones.

“When?”  His voice was cold.

“Once on Monday, and twice on Wednesday.  At your doctors’ offices.”  Shame sent a chill down his spine.

“Describe him.”

“Dean—”

“Describe him.”  It cracked out of Dean like a command.

“Slim, maybe 50, dark hair, short gray beard.”   _Don’t picture it, Dean.  Just don’t.  Let me hold you._

A minute passed.  Cas started to shake with the need to do something for Dean, but he was unable to move.  He needed Dean’s release—his permission.

After an eternity, Dean said, “And Benny knows all this?”

“Yes.”

Dean crossed the floor and bent down, leaning on one crutch, and started picking up his spilled belongings and shoving them into the boxes.  Cas rushed to kneel next to the boxes and help.

“Get the fuck away from me, Cas.”  It was so quiet, but Cas felt his words like the crack of a whip--a hard blow across his lower back.  

“Dean, I’m sor—”

“If you fucking say one more word I’ll leave this house and go back to mine and goddamn the consequences.”  He slammed a wrench into the box.  Then the socket set.  Then a DVD.  When he had gotten everything, he straightened and used a crutch to shove the boxes against a wall, then turned and stumped up the stairs, shutting the door to his room behind him.

*         *          *

The police team and Benny were there for almost two hours.  They took some fingerprints that Benny seemed sure would just turn out to be Cas’s and Dean’s.  But just as they were leaving, Cas noticed the dryer door was slightly ajar.  One of the officers opened it with rubber gloves and drew out a long strip of green cloth, spotted with blood.  Cas stared at it and his stomach roiled.  He watched the officer bag it and thought he might throw up.  Then Benny’s hand was on his shoulder and he was saying, “I have to ask Dean about it,” and his stomach suddenly turned to steel.  He looked at Benny and nodded, leading the way to the stairs.

When they knocked, Dean said, “Go away, Cas.”

“Dean, it’s Benny.  I need to ask you something.”

There was a brief pause, then, “Come in.”

Benny opened the door and stepped in, stopping at the door, Cas standing behind him.  Dean was just sitting up in the bed.

“Dean, I have to show you something.  It may be disturbing.”

“Yeah.  Fine.”  Dean shrugged.  Cas couldn’t scent any indication of fear from Dean, but there was a burnt smell of anger lingering in the room.

Benny brought out the bagged strip of cloth and held it up.  “Do you recognize this?”

Dean blinked.  He didn’t move otherwise, but he took a moment to reply.  When he did, his voice sounded tight and forced.  “Yeah.  I recognize it.  He tied me up with that.”  His eyes were pale and didn’t move from Benny’s face.

“Thank you, Dean.  I’m sorry to have to do that.”

“I know.  It’s fine.”

“Okay well, we’ve made sure the property is secure.”  He turned to Cas.  “Make sure you turn the alarm on when we leave and keep it on at all times.”  He turned back to Dean.  “Dean, I recommend that you don’t go anywhere alone, make sure you have an alpha or police escort at all times.  We will be having a car patrol the area at intervals throughout the night from now on.  If you see anything or anyone at all suspicious, call 911 immediately and then call me.”

Dean nodded.  “Yeah.  Got it.”

“I’m gonna get this guy, Dean.”  

“Okay.”

  
Dean stayed in his room all night, letting Cas bring him a tray with food, but otherwise refusing to talk to the alpha.  “I just need some time, Cas.”

Cas wandered around the house, knowing he was being pathetic to act so lost and bewildered in his own home, with Dean still safe and sound under his roof.  But when he tried to sit in front of the tv, his leg started vibrating with nervous tension and he found himself grinding his teeth.  When he tried to do the dishes he broke a plate and a glass before he could even get the dishwasher filled.  When he sat at his computer, the letters spun and danced and blurred together on the page.  Finally, he went to the basement and turned on the treadmill.  He ran and ran and ran until sweat was dripping from his face and running down his back.  When he almost fell, he stopped and let himself fall to sit on the floor, panting and shaking with exhaustion and release.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has a rough weekend; Cas and Dean talk. Sorry this chapter is a little short but I didn't want you all to have to wait until Monday night for the next one.

He was a wreck.  He knew it.  Dean had spent the entire weekend in his room, coming down to the kitchen occasionally for meals, but never with Cas, and always saying nothing more than that Castiel should give him space.  He had been unable to concentrate on his writing or anything that required an iota of mental focus, so he’d been on a cleaning spree, scrubbing his house from top to bottom and then starting over when he ran out of things to do.  The house was so full of lemon and pine scents that it was making him feel slightly nauseated, but he couldn’t stop—couldn’t sit still no matter how hard he tried. 

The first night they slept apart again, Cas had paced back and forth outside Dean’s door, occasionally collapsing to sit against the wall or the door, constantly listening and inhaling for any sign of nightmares.  And sure enough around 4 AM the traces of vinegar seeped past the door followed a few minutes later by Dean’s low voice murmuring protests.  He had stood with his forehead pressed to Dean’s door and his hand on the knob for several minutes, stressed and anxious, sure that Dean would not want him to enter, but of course he eventually gave in to his own need to soothe and comfort and rushed to Dean’s bed to hold him and whisper praises to him until he drifted back into an undisturbed sleep.  Before the sun came up, he dragged himself away and went back to his own room, managing to get a couple hours of sleep then. 

Dean hadn’t said anything about it all day Saturday, but Cas knew Dean would have detected the alpha’s scent in his bed and certainly guessed the likely reason.  But all Dean had to say to him that day was “Not yet, Cas” and “Need time, Cas.”  So he cleaned.  And he worried.  And he thought about calling Gabriel.  Or Bobby.  But what could they say?  “Yeah, you really fucked up there, Bro”?  “Nice move, Idjit”?   

That night they went through the same exercise as before, though the nightmare was around 2:30 AM.  And after Dean had been peacefully sleeping again for an hour Cas felt too tortured by knowing he was invading Dean’s space without his affirmative consent to stay and so ended up back in the hallway, separated by that door again, exhausted and drained but still completely unable to sleep.  When he heard Dean start to wake up in the morning and move around his room, he finally drifted back to his own bed and slept for several hours.   

Sunday passed much the same way.  In his mind he heard Dean ordering him out of his room.  Just as he had at the hospital.  Both events on a constant replay.  Dean’s eyes flat and his face like iron.  “Get the fuck out of my room, Cas.”  His stomach churned and he knelt on the floor where he had been wiping down the molding.  For the second time. 

“Cas.” 

He looked up and around.  Dean was standing behind him, leaning on one crutch.  He looked tired.  And entirely gorgeous.  The burnt anger scent had dwindled, but he still smelled frustrated and a little like…glue or paint.  To Cas it felt like loneliness. 

“Dean.”  It came out sounding like a prayer. 

“We should…Can we talk?” 

“Yes, of course.”  He got to his feet.  Followed Dean to the table.  And nearly bit his tongue to keep from blurting out the long apologies and explanations he had rehearsed in his head a thousand times.  He waited for Dean. 

Dean looked down at his hands for a minute and then finally up at Cas and just having those forest colored eyes on him again released half of Cas’s tension.  “Fuck, Cas.  I had it all figured out.  Wanted to come down here and be reasonable and talk.  The way you would if this was the other way around.  Be calm and cool and lay it out in nice, logical order.  But it makes me mad all over again to sit here with you.  You really fucking pissed me off.  And the thing is, see, I know what you were thinking.  I know you want to protect me and you didn’t want me worrying, or having worse nightmares and flashbacks, or being scared to go about my day or whatever.” 

He paused.  Seemed to be waiting but Cas didn’t know what he should say. “That’s right, isn’t it?” Dean finally said. 

“Yes, that’s…correct.” 

“Okay.  So here’s the thing, Cas.  I’m not sure you have any idea what is so wrong with that.  Or at least so fucking wrong with it to me.  Maybe other people you’ve been with would love that—be fine with it.  I don’t know.  But it is so fucking patronizing and…I don’t know…patriarchal or something.  Do you get that?” 

“It had not occurred to me at the time, but after Benny left….  I think I understand.” 

Dean sighed.  Ran his hand through his hair.  “Fuck, Cas, you just can’t make decisions for me.  Any kind of decisions.  And this thing—this thing is _my_ experience—it’s _my_ problem.  _I’m_ the one who was fucking beaten and tortured and pissed on and used and raped and burned and cut and…  Just…  For fuck’s sake, Cas.  I know you want to help.  You did help.  You _are_ helping.  I probably wouldn’t be alive or sane or something if it weren't for you.  And not just finding me and calling the ambulance.  Staying.  Touching me without….  Letting me stay here.”  Dean’s voice had softened and his shoulders had dropped some of their tension. 

“It’s been three weeks,” Dean said, looking hard at Cas.  “It’s only been three weeks since you found me after….”  He paused again. 

“Yes,” Cas said, unable to think of anything else. 

“Three weeks.  And I’m basically living with you.  We’re sleeping in the same bed.  We’re having sex.  We go everywhere together.” 

“Yes,” he said again.  ‘We’re having sex’, Dean said.  Not ‘we had sex’.   

“And it’s awesome.” 

“Yes, it is,” Cas whispered. 

Dean got up and walked awkwardly to the fridge, took out two beers and brought them back, setting one down before Cas.  He twisted his open, took a long drink and then played with it in his hands.  “I don’t do relationships, Cas.  And the last thing I wanted that week at the hospital was to start one now.  I’m not an idiot.”  He chuckled to himself and added, “Despite what Bobby says.” 

“I know I’m messed in the head.  We’ve lived next door for years and this is the absolute worst fucking timing for this thing.  But you…you were just so…”   
  
He had stopped.  Was just staring at his hands.   

And _god_ , did Cas want to hear what in the world had finally made Dean Winchester look at him.  _Notice_ him.  Let him in.  “What, Dean?” 

Dean looked up again.  “Respectful, Cas.”  He set his beer down and planted his hands on the table.  “You _asked_ me.  You asked me if you could stay.  You asked me if you could touch me.  You asked me if I would stay here at your place.  You fucking asked me if you could read to me.  You _asked_ me if you could ask me questions.  The only thing you didn’t ask me was if you could go in my house and clean it.”  He took another swig of beer.  “I thought after that happened that you got it.  But now I think you don’t.  Now I wonder if you didn’t really respect my space at all, Cas.” 

“No, Dean, no, of course I respect—” 

“Please, Cas.  Listen to me first.” 

Cas’s mouth clapped shut. 

“Okay, I know that some part of what you feel or think about me or whatever is respect.  But part of me wonders if you don’t also just think you know better than I do what’s good for me.  And that’s fine—we all feel that way sometimes.  God knows Bobby thinks he could run me and Sam’s lives a hell of a lot better than _we_ do.  That’s how it is when you care about somebody.  But you can’t.  You can’t run my life.  And you can’t…you can’t go through what I’m going through, Cas.  You can help if you still want to.  You can stand next to me and you can hold my fucking hand and you can listen to me and you can chauffeur me everywhere and you can wake me up when I have nightmares.  But you can’t take over.  It isn’t _yours_ , Cas.  Do you get that?” 

“Yes,” Cas nodded.  God, he wanted to hold Dean’s hand.  “Yes, I…I understand.” 

“This…man…” Dean said man as if it was poison on his tongue, “…wants me to suffer.  And you want the opposite.  And neither of you gets to decide what I actually feel.  He can leave shit around the house and you can hold me and tell me I’m good, but I feel about that however I feel.  And I think about that however I think.  And you have to let me go through it.  Because this is life—this is _my_ life.  Not yours, Cas.  Yeah, it’s your house and you get to make the same kind of choices for yourself.  You should get all the information, too, because you’re here and you’re in danger because of that.  So you need to know this guy is still around, is watching or whatever.  And you get to decide if you want to do anything different.  Move, or ask me to go somewhere else, or get a different alarm system, or I don’t know what the fuck.  But those are your decisions.  And if you don’t let me have all the information, and make my own decisions for myself, then you’re not respecting me, Cas.  You’re treating me like a child.  Or a possession.  And I’m not your child.  Or your possession.” 

He had been talking fast, louder, getting riled up, and he took a big breath and sort of rolled his shoulders back.  Like it had been an effort to get that out and the worst part was over.  Cas watched him take another long pull from his beer.  Set it down.  Stare at it for a minute, then look back up at Cas. 

“It’s fine, Cas.  You can talk.” 

“I…Can I?” Cas gestured to the chair closer to Dean. 

Dean gave a small smile.  “Yeah, Cas.” 

Cas moved next to Dean and then rested his hand, palm up on the table next to Dean’s.  Dean took it and Cas gripped his hand.  “I’m deeply sorry, Dean.  It was wrong of me to try to hide that information from you.”  He’d been holding himself tightly, trying to keep what he said to the minimum—to just say what he should and not rush ahead and make excuses or explanations that Dean didn’t need.  Dean had understood what Castiel had been thinking.  It was Cas who had not properly considered Dean’s point of view.  But it was impossible.  His need for them to leap this hurdle was too strong and his mouth raced on.  “I cannot apologize enough to you, Dean.  I swear to you that I have the utmost respect for you and I know that you are a strong, capable man.  Dean, it isn’t just respect—I have so much faith in you—I know you will rise from this experience whole and beautiful as ever.  You are so courageous and resourceful.  I…I’m so sorry, Dean.  I don’t know how to make this right, but I will never forget what you have said here and will always put your independence and autonomy first if I can.” 

He wanted to beg Dean to forgive him.  To stay.  To still call this a relationship as he had earlier.  But he held himself back.  Instead he looked down at their entwined hands and asked, “Will you want to go stay with your family now?” 

He couldn’t look.  Until he heard Dean say, with a soft tone, “No.  I don’t want to go.”  Cas looked up and Dean’s eyes were light, like green tea.  “I just need to make sure you understand.  You can’t go through this _for_ me.” 

Cas nodded.  “But you said I could stand next to you,” he thought to himself.  “I should maybe…do you want to hear the details…about what I saw?” Dean nodded. Cas told him about seeing the man in the parking lot at Dr. Crowley’s office on Monday, then seeing him at the hospital and again at Dr. Crowley’s office on Wednesday.  He told him that he convinced Benny to give him the suspect’s name and address at which point Dean raised an eyebrow.  “Damn, Cas.  That’s pretty impressive, getting police detectives to breach their confidentiality.”  Cas expected Dean to ask him for the man’s name, but he didn’t. 

“Dean, in light of what we’ve discussed, there’s something else I need to tell you.  I…after Benny gave me the name, I hired a PI to investigate him, though clearly he hasn’t been any more successful at finding him than the police have.” 

Dean just said, “Okay.  So if he does find out anything useful?” 

“I will offer you the chance to learn anything that I do.” 

Dean nodded.  “Thank you.” 

They sat for a few minutes, then Dean said, “We should get some dinner then go to bed early.” 

Cas just nodded, trying to keep from crying with relief.


	38. Thirty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny can't get a break; Cas and Dean reconnect

Benny stared at the empty whiskey bottle.  His head was pounding and all he could think about was Christopher Rolston.  But there was nothing he could do until his warrant for the Masters cabin came through.  He’d been waiting all day for the prosecutor’s office and it was clear now that nothing was going to move until Monday morning. 

Every move he made just left him empty handed and more frustrated.  An officer had spotted Rolston’s car Friday evening shortly after the incident at Novak’s house, but of course had lost him almost immediately.  Benny couldn’t believe he had the balls to still be using the same car and actually doubted whether it had been Rolston at all.  They hadn’t found any other real estate in Rolston’s name anywhere, of course.  They had searched his home on Saturday and found nothing to tie Rolston to any of the victims.  They hadn’t even found any BDSM paraphernalia, so Benny was certain he must have some apartment or property somewhere else.  He had brought a fucking bench of some kind to Dean’s house.  Where the fuck was that?  Maybe he’d disposed of it, but again there was no trace at his business or home. 

He’d had officers interviewing everyone they could find with any connection to Rolston.  Most were just ordinary acquaintances, coworkers, and the like who didn’t know anything about the man’s personal life.  At first Benny had hopes that when they interviewed regulars at Hell’s Gate and similar clubs in the three metro areas, people would come out of the woodwork who had bad experiences with Rolston, maybe even early abuse cases before it had escalated to murder.  But only a few people recognized his picture at all and they were just bouncers, cashiers or bartenders.  No one who had any personal scene type interactions with the man. 

The whiskey bottle just stared back at him.  He grabbed his keys and slammed the door behind him.  He really needed a drink. 

*                  *                  * 

They made spaghetti for dinner.  Together.  Moving smoothly around the kitchen with the comfort they had built over the last two weeks.  They didn’t talk much, but it didn’t matter to Castiel.  Being near Dean, inhaling him, seeing him standing there strong and steady, being allowed to touch him lightly from time to time—it was enough.  He could almost feel his body resetting itself—tense muscles loosening, the churning in his stomach finally calming, and the pinched stabbing feeling in his temples tapering off. 

After the dishes were cleared, as Cas was putting the last couple items away, Dean gently grasped his wrist and turned Cas to face him. 

“I’m gonna go upstairs.  I’ll…see you up there.” 

Cas nodded, and watched Dean turn and head down the hall.  He finished in the kitchen, then made his rounds of the house, checking doors, windows, and the alarm.  He felt slightly dazed—still exhausted from his misery and having so little sleep over the weekend, but in a sort of euphoria from Dean sharing so much with him and apparently forgiving him, and just being near and close again.  When he got to his room, Dean was already in his spot in Cas’s bed again and Cas leaned against the doorway for a moment, trying to pull himself together.  Willing himself not to put too much pressure on the omega, to just be calm and comfortable with whatever Dean needed tonight. 

He brushed his teeth and put on fresh boxers and t-shirt, then slid into bed, turning the light off.  They lay in the dark facing each other, close but not touching as Cas’s eyes adjusted to the dark.  When he could see, Dean was still awake, looking at him also and Cas reached out with one hand, pausing before touching, until Dean gave a slight nod, then running his fingers along Dean’s jawline and over his forehead, cheek, neck.  Dean hadn’t shaved all weekend and his face was rough with stubble, and so soft and smooth everywhere else.  Cas loved the feel of him, the warmth, the slight tingle of connection or excitement that ran up from his fingertips to the top of his spine as he touched Dean. 

He looked back from his fingers to Dean’s eyes, which were still on his own.  “Dean,” he said quietly, “I truly regret my choices last week to keep things from you.”  He continued to touch, sliding his fingers over Dean’s neck, feeling his adam’s apple.  “I promise you that I will work to earn your forgiveness and trust again.” 

Dean shook his head slightly against Cas’s hand.  “I forgave you already, Cas.  It’s over.  You don’t have to do anything else.  Just…just no secrets.  Not about this.  Not about me.” 

Cas nodded.  His fingers slid over Dean’s lips and across his cheek. 

“Kiss me,” Dean whispered.   

They both leaned forward and when Dean’s lips met his, Cas felt something settle inside himself.  Like a puzzle piece sliding into place.  They kissed softly and slowly and Cas lost himself in it until he felt Dean’s hands tugging at his t-shirt.  Cas sat up to remove his shirt and watched with surprise when Dean did the same.  Dean had never taken off his own shirt in front of Cas before and Cas had been certain that the healing cuts on his stomach were the reason.  But Dean just sat up and tugged it off, his own eyes solidly on Cas doing the same thing.  Then Dean shoved his boxers down, so Cas did the same and when they lay back down, Dean slid up tight against Cas and wrapped a leg around Cas’s hip while leaning in to kiss him again.  The kiss was languid and slow, they played and explored, growing hotter and hungrier.  Cas could actually feel Dean’s dick growing and getting hard as it throbbed and slid against his stomach and cock, which had been full within seconds of hearing Dean demand a kiss.  It was driving him mad feeling the evidence of Dean’s slow build and when, after what seemed like an hour of their mouths intertwining and merging and separating in an endless cycle of desire, he finally smelled the scent of Dean’s slick, he growled deep in his throat. 

He felt Dean’s hand take hold of his own and then pull and guide it over the leg he had wrapped around Cas, to press his fingers up against Dean’s now wet hole.  Cas moaned with need and tugged Dean’s leg tighter around himself, immediately pressing a finger inside Dean.  One quickly became two and Cas’s mind was swirling.  Everywhere they were touching little jolts of pleasure were shimmering through Cas’s skin, through his muscles and into his bones.  His fingers were surrounded by the intense heat and wetness of Dean’s ass.  Dean’s hard cock was grinding up against his stomach and twitching and sliding along his own shaft.  Dean’s teeth nibbled at his bottom lip and then licked into his mouth, and Dean tasted like mint and cinnamon.  He slid a third finger inside Dean and felt Dean’s tightness squeezing against his fingers, making him groan with need and want. 

Dean broke the kiss and pressed a hand against Cas’s shoulder until he lay on his back, then Dean rolled up onto his knees, straddling Cas and rolled his hips, grinding their cocks together a few times and staring at Cas with dark, pine colored eyes.  Cas rested his hands on Dean’s knees and watched Dean rock against him, his mouth open as he breathed heavily, his hands resting gently on Cas’s chest.  Dean’s broad muscular chest was scattered with white and light pink scars—thin cut marks, small circular burn marks and others.  But the muscles underneath were solid and shifting as Dean rocked and breathed and Cas was mesmerized.  The cuts across his abdomen were fully on display for Cas and when he noticed them he thought how small and insignificant they all seemed.  Just a mess of tiny little lines, so insignificant compared to the solid strength of the man underneath them and the urgent beauty of his hard throbbing cock, throbbing and leaking against them. 

Cas wanted to be _owned_ by this man.  He wanted to be a part of what Dean was—toughness and humor and beauty and competence and _vibrancy_.  He was so caught up that when Dean wrapped a hand around Cas’s cock, he flinched and gasped, his hips grinding up against Dean’s lifting him up and then dropping back down as he panted while Dean stroked him slowly, fist tight to the bare edge of pain. 

“Dean, please,” Cas murmured. 

“It’s okay, Cas, I’ve got you.”  He rose up and lined Cas’s cock up against his hole, his eyes on Cas’s face the whole time. 

“Dean, condom…” Cas managed, one arm reaching half-heartedly for the nightstand. 

“No need, Cas, you know my tests are clear.” 

“Yes, no, I’m fine, just wasn’t sure…we didn’t talk…”   

“I will if you want Cas, but I’d rather feel you.  Really feel you.”  Dean was hovering above him, rocking slightly, and Cas moaned with desire. 

“Yes, Dean, yes, please.”  Cas bit his lip, digging his fingers into Dean’s thighs as he struggled to keep himself from thrusting his hips up as hard as he could into Dean’s body.  Then the weight of Dean was pressing down and his rim was pressing tight and hot and wet against the head of his cock and then he was inside Dean and Dean was sinking down on him sweet and smooth until Dean’s ass was pressed against his thighs and he was in so deep and he wanted to cry with relief.  
  
“Oh Dean, yesss, oh god, yes.”  His whole body tensed suddenly, his cock twitched, and his fingers dug into Dean’s legs a little more.  “Oh fuck, Dean, please…please fuck me.”  He needed to move, he wanted to thrust, but he wasn’t sure if he moved if it would affect the way Dean was sitting, the pressure on his toes.  The heat and the tightness and the wet they weren’t going away.  He was surrounded and the tension of it was wonderful at terrible at the same time.  Dean’s cock was hard, angled straight up against his own stomach and…oh shit, he pulled his fingers away from Dean’s things.  He had been gripping so hard his fingers had dug in and left little red weeping crescent marks where his fingernails had bit in.  He pulled back, horrified, and Dean hissed in pain and groaned aloud, grinding and rocking down against Cas.  Cas’s eyes flew up to Dean’s and his mouth was wide open, his head slightly back, neck exposed and he was panting as if he were about to lose control. 

After a moment, Dean looked down at Cas again, smiled and then lifted himself up slowly, then pressed back down and started to ride Cas in a slow, even, torturous rhythm.  He stared at Cas and one side of his mouth turned up into a smile. 

“Is this what you want, Cas?  You want me to fuck you?”  He rose up.  Then down.  Up and down. 

“Dean…” 

“Say it, Cas.  Say you want me to fuck you.”  Up and down.  Hot.  Wet.  A slide.  Then a rock of Dean’s pelvis and a clenching around him. 

Cas moaned and his hips thrust up involuntarily.  “Yess, Dean, please.  I want you to fuck me.  Please…you feel so good.” 

“Yeah?  You like that, Cas?”  Rocking forward and back a little, grinding down.  Then lifting up and away and back down.  “Well, then I think you should do a little something for me, don’t you?”  Up.  Down. 

“Dean…yes…anything...” 

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean panted.  He seemed to be sliding a little bit out of control now, too.  Fucking himself up and down on Cas’s cock, still slowly, but more steadily, purposeful.  “Yeah, you wanna take care of me, don’t you, Cas?” 

“Oh god, yes, Dean, please…yes...” 

“Your hands, Cas.  Put them back.”  He ground down hard onto Cas, rocked his pelvis back and forth and moaned aloud.  “Come on, Cas!”  Then without waiting he grabbed Cas's hand with his good one and pressed it down hard onto his own thigh.  “Come on!”  He clenched around Cas and Cas twitched and rocked his own hips. 

“Dean,” Cas murmured, filled with need and uncertainty. 

“Cas, come on, you can do this—you can take care of me.”  He lifted up and then back down again.  A harder motion, almost dropping down onto Cas.  Then again.  And again. 

Cas watched the omega, a strange contradictory vision of strength and need, power and urgency.  And he dug his fingers into Dean’s thighs in the same spot they had been.  Dean whispered, “Yessss,” and his head dropped back again.  Cas pressed harder, the white pressure areas around his fingertips expanding and Dean started to ride him faster.  He was fucking himself on Cas’s cock, riding him hard now.  Dean’s hole felt somehow hotter around Cas now, as if Cas were wrapped up in a sauna that slipped and slid around him somehow, rubbing along his shaft, the friction and heat and wet driving him toward orgasm.  His eyes fell on Dean’s cock, the head red and swollen, dripping with precum.  He should take hold of Dean, stroke him…he was so close himself…he wasn’t going to last… 

Then Dean’s hands were on his wrists, pulling on his arms, pressing on his hands, urging him to dig in harder, so he dug in, pressing his fingernails deep into the tissue of Dean’s skin and thigh muscles, as hard as he could.  He didn’t have much in the way of fingernails, but he dug in hard and little pricks of blood spread from several of the points of contact and Dean shouted, “Oh fuck!”  His head dropped forward and he started riding Cas fast, slamming down on him and grinding down on each stroke, then back up and down so fast and hard, his ass clenching around Cas.  His head was bent down, eyes closed, and he was mumbling now, “Cas…yes…fuck…fuck…god…Cas…oh…yes.” 

“Dean,” Cas murmured back, mesmerized again by this vision of Dean—so powerful and so desperate at the same time.  “God, Dean, you’re so beautiful.  You’re so good.”  Dean’s ass clenched around him and his fingers twitched in response, the fingers clenching a bit and causing his nails to drag into and down his thighs.  “Oh fuck!” Dean moaned and he ground down against Cas and his cock twitched in front of him and spurted come out onto both of their stomachs.  His muscles spasmed around Cas and dragged Cas over the edge too, his body surging with pleasure, his cock seizing and pulsing into Dean.  Dean rocked against him for a few more moments, then slowed and then suddenly his arms shook a bit and he dropped forward onto Cas’s chest.  Cas pulled his fingers from Dean’s thighs, trying to ignore the bloody little crescent marks he’d left there and wrapped his arms around Dean as the last tremors of his orgasm ran through him. 

Dean’s head was on his shoulder, he was breathing against Cas’s neck, and Cas soaked up the sensations of Dean’s weight on top of him and his scent all around them. 

*                  *                  * 

When Dean woke, Cas was wrapped around his back, the alpha’s hard cock rubbing up against the crack of his ass.  Dean rocked back into it, wondering if Cas was awake or asleep, but uncaring as his desire took over.  He lifted a leg up and as Cas’s leg slipped between his, he wrapped that lifted leg back around Cas.  He ran a hand down between their legs to grip Cas’s cock and guide it to his rim.  He heard Cas gasp slightly and felt the alpha’s arms tighten around his chest.  He felt a slight twinge of pain in one of his ribs and the jolt of pain-pleasure went straight to his dick.  He needed Cas inside him _now_.  He used his thumb and fingertip to guide the head of Cas’s cock and he pushed back against Cas until it popped past his rim, then he rocked purposefully back against Cas and tugged gently at Cas’s arms, urging him forward.  Cas took the hint and started to rock his hips up against Dean’s ass, fucking him in slow, languid strokes. 

They fucked like that, comfortable and happy, sometimes needy but usually fading back to a more tired, unhurried sort of pleasure.  Eventually Cas started to speed up and Dean heard the alpha’s breathing turn into panting in his ear.  Then Cas wrapped a hand around Dean’s cock and started stroking him in time to their fucking.  He rambled in murmured whispers into Dean’s ear as his cock rocked in and out of Dean, “Dean…so perfect…so strong…god, Dean…being inside you…fuck…Dean…you’re so hot…oh Dean…you’re so good…you’re doing so good…Dean…so good…”  Dean was enthralled—bewitched by the vision Cas painted of him, wondering if he _was_ strong and good.  His orgasm snuck up on him and suddenly he was spilling over Cas’s hand without any warning, his body stilling and spasming before Cas rocked back into him twice more and then pressed his head into Dean’s shoulder as he came.  Dean felt the warm, wetness spreading inside him and something about it felt like Cas was blessing him—baptizing him with the power of his own faith in Dean.


	39. Thirty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean says goodbye to the crutches and hello to a friend; Benny's frustration grows

Dean was having a hard time.  He was trying to act calm and collected, but he was almost unable to sit still from the nervous tension.  Thank god they were in Baby, which helped keep him relaxed.  But the excitement that he might get rid of those damned boots and crutches today was hard to contain.   

He looked over at Cas driving and smiled to himself.  The last week since they had… _fought?... can you call it a fight when there wasn’t really a fight?_...The week had been a strange combination of intense and soothing.  The more time he spent with Cas the more he thought everything about Cas was like that—surprising mixes of what would seem like two opposing forces in anyone else.  Usually calm but sometimes a blazing fire.  Usually thoughtful but sometimes impulsive.  Usually quiet but sometimes all nervous rambling.  Dean was becoming more and more fascinated with wanting to dig his way through those depths and learn all the odd combinations that made this man tick.  He was so unlike any other alpha Dean had ever been around.  But there was nothing beta or omega about him either.   

It was surprising how quickly the last week had gone by.  It had been quiet—no appearances from his stalker and no new information from Benny or Cas’s P.I.  And with Dean still unable to go back to work he had started out the week feeling glum, expecting the time to drag.  But then Cas had convinced his editor to delay some kind of deadline and they had ended up spending a lot of time each day in bed.  It had been pretty fucking awesome and they were really starting to click together.  Dean knew now just when the hitch in Cas’s breath meant he was about to come and when the color shift in his eyes meant he was about to carry Dean up to bed.  And yeah, he let Cas carry him to bed a lot.  He actually fucking loved it.  Of course, if he did get the boots off today he supposed there would be no excuse for that anymore. 

He sighed quietly and Cas turned to look at him and smiled.  The movement caused little crinkles at the edges of his eyes.  Dean felt an urge to kiss them, but he stayed where he was.  _Jesus, I’m getting so fucking cheesy._    

Dr. Mills was her usual friendly businesslike self, sending Dean straight for x-rays on his wrist and toes.  She seemed happy with his progress and did agree that he could stop wearing the boots and using crutches but warned him to go back to them at any sign of pain.  She also seemed very happy with the healing of the complex fractures in his wrist, but Dean had always been a quick healer.  He knew it had been a fantasy, but he was still disappointed when she said the cast would stay on at least two more weeks and more likely three or four.  His blood tests and the rest of his exam, though, were perfect and Dean knew that realistically he couldn’t expect a better result.  And given that he could wear normal shoes and drive himself again ( _Oh god, finally, Baby!_ ), he was pretty hyped when he met Cas in the waiting room. 

“Looks like I’m driving home,” he said, trying to contain the huge smile that was fighting to break out on his face.  He lost the battle when Cas’s face lit up in a grin and he hugged Dean tightly for a brief moment, saying, “That’s wonderful, Dean!” with such joy that Dean’s stomach fluttered. 

Just as they were starting the car, Dean got a text message from Charlie saying “Tonight okay?  My booking canceled so I have a couple days.”  He texted her back quickly and then rolled down his window and put Baby into gear.  Oh god, it felt good to be back in the driver’s seat. 

“So um, Cas…I was wondering if…my friend Charlie is gonna come visit for a couple days.  My house is fine and all, but since I’m not staying there and since I’m not really using the guest room anymore, I just wondered…” 

“Of course, Dean.  It’s your home, too.  You are welcome to have anyone you want come stay.”  He said it just as warmly as he did everything else, but there was a pinched note to his voice.   

“Thanks, Cas.  I really appreciate that.  It’ll be a lot easier and I figured you’d probably worry less than if I was traipsing back and forth to my house when we haven’t even gotten an alarm system installed or anything.” 

Cas nodded, then asked, “Is he…are you close?” 

Dean laughed.  _Oh, of course!_   “Charlie’s a woman.  And before you spend five minutes skirting around asking me if we’ve been involved, she’s a lesbian.” 

Cas’s face flushed red with embarrassment.  Dean wanted to tease the shit out of him and give him a hug at the same time.  “Well, I look forward to meeting her,” Cas offered and this time his voice was all warmth. 

“You have no idea.  Charlie’s a force of nature.  You’ll see.  But um…I wanted to let you know that I was thinking of going out with her while she’s here at some point.  You know, to get out of the house and everything.  She’s an alpha, so I figure it’ll be safe enough as long as we’re in public and we text when we get there and we’re leaving and everything.” 

Dean could almost hear Cas’s mind working.  Of course he would have to say it was okay.  And of course he would be nervous as shit about having Dean that far away from him for any period of time.  The quiet week had done nothing to reduce Cas’s protectiveness and frankly, had only increased Dean’s own sense of impending trouble.  But Dean knew he had to start living his life at least a little bit again.  He couldn’t hide inside Cas’s house forever.  And who knew if Benny would ever catch this guy.  And even if he did, it could be weeks or months.   

“Does…Charlie know about...” Cas struggled with how to put it into words.  “…the potential for danger that you’re in?” 

Dean turned and raised an eyebrow.  “Potential for danger, huh?  It’s cool, Cas.  Yeah, we don’t wanna just send her out as my alpha guardian without a heads up on what she’s getting into.  And no, she doesn’t really know everything that’s happened, but we can tell her and if she feels like we should just stay in of course that’ll be cool.  I just thought…I mean, we haven’t seen each other in a while and…” 

It was Cas’s turn to be amused by Dean worrying over his words, which was a nice change of pace, he thought.  “No need to explain, Dean.  Just because it’s my house doesn’t mean you should be able to have some privacy with your friend.  If you and Charlie don’t end up going out, then I can always make myself scarce.” 

“Thanks, Cas.” 

*                  *                  * 

He was drinking too much.  But there was nothing else to do.  He’d run down every lead twice.  He’d read every piece of paper in all three victims’ files at least five times.  He’d been out to personally re-interview more than half of the people his officers had talked to in the first three weeks of the investigation.  Not that any of those people were at all likely of having seen anything useful, but Benny couldn’t just sit on his hands.  And of course when his warrant finally came through the search of Ruby’s family cabin had uncovered exactly nothing.   

So he kept pushing the same buttons over and over again.  It made him feel like a mouse in a scientist’s cage.  Just pushing the button and getting shocked but doing it over and over again just hoping for a tiny morsel of cheese.  And when he couldn’t keep it up anymore each night, he drank.   

*                  *                  * 

Cas opened the door and a petite redhead breezed past him toward the kitchen calling out “What’s up, bitches?” 

Dean was making pie and when Cas followed Charlie to the kitchen they were already in a tight hug, with the beer Charlie had brought set down on the counter.  When they pulled back, she held him by the arms for a moment, looking at him and pronounced, “You still look gorgeous enough it almost tempts _me_ ,” then she stepped back and turned to Cas. 

“Castiel, huh?  I guess you’re Dean’s guardian angel.”  She stepped up close to him and studied his face.  “Well, you’re a pretty one, too.”  Then she leaned forward and hugged him briefly. 

Before Cas could even worry about making conversation, Charlie had already pulled open a beer, stuffed the rest in the fridge, sat down on a stool at the counter, and started teasing Dean for never having baked her a pie before.  Cas took a beer from the fridge and started to head to his office when Charlie’s voice sailed out to him with a light, “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” 

He turned back.  “I thought…maybe you two would want some privacy.”   

She smiled brightly.  “Man, I’m staying for two days.  I’ll get more than enough alone time with Mr. Stoneface.  I wanna talk to the author of one of my favorite series of books!  Oh my god, when is the next one coming out.  My local bookstore holds it for me and calls me whenever they come out, but now that I know you I figure I can get an autographed copy, right?  Okay, I know you can’t tell me if Harrendal is going to find Seelie or not, but you have to at least put me out of my misery about the Augnotts!”    

Cas was charmed by Charlie’s relaxed energy and an hour later he realized that she had transitioned from his books to his family and his entire romantic history seamlessly and he hadn’t even noticed how much he was telling her.  In front of Dean.  But he found her enthusiasm rather irresistible and so admitted to her freely that he’d only had two serious relationships.  He could feel Dean listening as he moved about the kitchen, but forced himself to follow his instincts and trust Charlie.  And he really didn’t want to keep anything from Dean at this point anyway. 

So by dinnertime they were deep into the story of Balthazar, his most recent boyfriend, and Charlie declared that they had to order dinner in so she could finish getting “all the gory details” on “the blue-eyed angel.”  And while Dean ordered food, Cas told her about Balth cheating on him and having to find a new agent to replace him.  She was appropriately indignant on his behalf and followed his story up with one about a prior girlfriend of hers who had stolen her car when she left, and then jabbed Dean in the thigh and blamed him for introducing them.  She even got Dean to recount a story about an ex-girlfriend who had tried to get him to dress up in women’s clothing and call her Daddy.  By the time Cas thought again about leaving the two alone to catch up, four hours had passed, there were five empty beer bottles in front him, he was feeling more than pleasantly buzzed and the clock read 11:18 PM.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a little slower than usual. I'm starting to struggle a bit just wanting to make sure everything fits reasonably well together. I never expected to have you guys so interested and involved and it is incredible, but that makes it matter more that it isn't just slapped down and full of holes. So now it sounds like I'm blaming you guys. Um, ignore all that. Point is mainly, I'm sorry for any slowness that is starting to creep into the posting schedule.
> 
> And as always, thank you guys SOOOO much for reading and kudos-ing and bookmarking and subscribing and especially for commenting. It is amazing to know you're there and has made me feel so welcome in the community with this being my first fic. You guys are beautiful!!!!!


	40. Forty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie grills Dean

Over breakfast, Charlie proposed that she and Dean go for a drive and stop off at their favorite brewpub.  It was a trip they had not made often, but enough times now that Charlie had christened it the Christmas in Spring Roadtrip (something to do with her red hair and Dean’s green eyes and her mood the third time they had ended up on the same route).  Dean looked over at Cas, who had looked up from his coffee at her suggestion.

“Uh…” Dean started.  God, he hated how his own safety was such a fucking problem.  How much longer would every move he made be in a spotlight like this while everyone around him jumped through hoops just so he could be safe?  “…We should probably talk about that.”  He was never at a loss for words with Charlie.  Charlie! for fuck’s sake.  But how was he supposed to tell her that if they went out together she could be in danger?  Because of him.

“Charlie, I’m not sure how much Dean has told you about his attacker and the investigation, but the police have suggested that until the man is found we should take certain precautions for his safety.”  Of course Cas had his back.

“Shit,” Charlie said.  “They think he might come back after Dean again?”

Cas looked over at Dean.  Dean nodded.  “Yeah.  Maybe.”  He hated how she was going to worry now.  And he hated that she could be in danger, too.  But he could almost taste the fresh air through the open window of Baby as they drove.  God, he wanted Christmas in Spring Roadtrip.  Needed to feel normal for a while.

“Okay.  So are you saying the police said you can’t go anywhere?  Have you been completely stuck in the house for a month?”  She sounded horrified and Dean loved her for it.  She knew how quickly being stuck inside, even in a comfortable house with someone as terrific as Cas, would grate on Dean’s nerves.  She was the same way.

“No, not all the time.  Cas takes me…we go out, do my doctor appointments, the store, sometimes other things.  But Benny, the detective, he thought…”  Fuck, he felt like such a baby saying he needed an alpha around to take care of him.

Charlie looked at Cas.  “Detective Lafitte asked Dean to try to keep close to an alpha as much as possible.”

“Oh, well shit.  That’s all?  Okay, so we’re golden.  I’m sure as fuck not gonna let anybody mess with my boy.  So we can go?”  That was Charlie.  Smiling big and bright as ever and Dean felt a sudden wave of warmth and affection for her.

“Charlie,” Cas said seriously, “I have no doubt Dean would be thrilled to get out and enjoy your ‘roadtrip’, but we do want to make sure you know this means you might be putting yourself at risk as well.”  Dean loved how he could practically hear the air quotes when Cas said the world roadtrip.  He nodded at Cas in thanks for saying what was so important, but still felt so hard to say.

“Are you kidding me?  The Christmas in Spring Roadtrip is worth all the danger.  This boy needs to get out of the house and we need to get our bonding on!  Not to mention brews, burgers, and pie that is almost as good as Dean’s.  You’re gonna have to tie me to this chair to stop me from going.”  She looked at Dean and winked.  Then she looked back at Cas and said, more seriously, “Angel, I look small, but I pack a seriously big punch.  I promise I got this.  I’ll bring him back in one piece.”  Then she grinned and stuffed a huge bite of waffle in her mouth, chewing happily.

The second they were out the door, Charlie slugged Dean in the arm.  Hard.  He grabbed his bicep and said “Ow!”, giving her a wounded look.

“That’s for making me hear about all this crap from Sam!”  She punched him again.  “Who’s in fucking Africa!”  She turned and headed on to the car.

They got in and he turned the ignition and then turned to Charlie.  “I know.  I should have called.  It just isn’t always easy, Charlie.”

“Oh, I know.  Big, tough Dean Winchester.  Can’t possibly ask anyone for help.  Or even let anyone know that something happened that might lead to them wanting to offer some help on their own initiative.  Oh god no.  That’s too haaaarrd.”  She pursed her lips, fastening her seatbelt with a sharp click.

“Okay, I get it, Charlie.  It won’t happen again.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, Winchester.  Don’t even bother.  I know full well that the same thing would happen the next time, so I guess I just have to hope and pray there isn’t a next time.”

“Charlie…”  He stopped.  What was he even planning to say?  She was probably right.  And now that she was here, it was hard to remember why he had wanted to avoid this so much.

“Okay, Dean, I have an idea how you can make it up to me.”

He smiled, figuring it was sure to be some special autographed Castiel Novak souvenirs or maybe even book sneak peaks or something.  Surely Cas would help him out for such a good cause.  “What then?”

“Absolute honesty for a day.  Well, for the length of CISR.”

“Sisser?”

“Christmas in Spring Roadtrip.”

“Oh.”

“So it’s a deal?”

Dean snorted.  “Not on your life.  You’ll ask about shit there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna tell you.  Besides, I know you just wanna know everything that makes Kendra from the Woodside Diner scream with pleasure and a gentleman just doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh Kendra.  Wow.  She was something.”  Charlie smirked and licked her lips.  “Okay but no, Winchester, I promise, on my honor, no requirement to spill any third party’s secrets.  Not gonna grill you about anyone else.  Just about you.”

_ Oh. _  “Come on, Charlie.”   _ Shit. _  He sounded like a whiny little bitch.  Just because his best friend cared about him.   _ Fucking man up, Winchester. _

“You come on, Dean.  Keep in mind that you left me in the dark for four fucking weeks.  You were in the hospital laid up for an entire week.  Never said a word.  Never called your adorable sweet little friend Charlie.  I had to get a call from Sam in the bowels of Safari-Land last week—”

“Okay,  _ Jesus _ , alright.” 

“Yes!”  She gave a celebratory fistpump. 

Dean sighed.  What the hell.  They were in Baby and the sun was shining and he didn’t have those shitass crutches.  Surely he could handle a little honest sharing.

He glanced over at Charlie and saw that she was looking at him seriously—examining.  “Okay,” she said, reaching her arm up to drape it over the seat and touch his shoulder gently with her fingertips.  “How are you?”

“That’s your big ‘be honest with me, Dean’ question?”

“It’s one of them.”

“I’m fine.  I’m good.”

She sighed.  “Okay, look, let me make this easier on you and try to be more specific.  Sam said that man had you for three days.  And if you—not just anyone, but Dean Winchester—were in the hospital for a week, it must have been pretty fucking bad.  I can see that you’re physically good.  And you smell healthy.  But…well…I’m an alpha, Dean.  And your scent isn’t back to normal.  So I’m asking—how are you?”

He stared at the dashed line slipping by.  “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

She watched him speculatively.  “But you’re seeing a counselor?”

“Yes, like three times a week so far.  I can’t wait until I get to go back to work and only have time to go once a week.”

One side of her lips rose in a half-smile.  “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.  So what about the fact this guy is still out there?  The cops really think he might come after you still?”

“Yeah, uh, well, when Benny first—”

“Oh yeah, what the hell is up with a cop named Benny?”

Dean laughed.  “Detective Benny Lafitte.  He’s cool.  Anyway, when I was getting out of the hospital he suggested it was probably safest to stay with an alpha until they caught the guy and since I couldn’t get around on my own anyway and Cas offered, it seemed like no big deal.  I didn’t really think much about it.  Although, uh, I’m not sure if we told you, but I’m not the only…the only one he attacked.  The cops tied my case to two other cases from other states.”

“Oh holy shit,” Charlie said.  “So he’s a serial abuser?”

“Um…murderer, actually.”

“What?  He killed those other two people?  Oh fuck.”

“Yeah.  I don’t know I didn’t really think about it when Benny first said that.  But then the week before last the guy was apparently stalking me and Cas.  But it seems like Cas and the cops scared him off now, so I mean, I don’t think you need to be too worried about us today or anything.”

“Dean!  I’m not worried about me or today.  I mean, maybe I should be.  But I just…I just want to know how you are about it all.  Is it freaking you out?”

“Nah.  Not like that.  I don’t feel scared and shit.  I’m just tired of being unable to go anywhere on my own and take care of myself.”

“Yeah.  That’d suck.  But I’m glad you’re doing it—you know, following the advice.  I actually wouldn’t put it past Dean Winchester to ignore all the advice of cops and requests of family and friends and just galavant all over the country on his own regardless of how much heartache and trauma it would cause the rest of us.”

Dean hummed in agreement.  “Kind of weird, huh?”

“Good weird.  And I’m guessing that a certain neighborly author has something to do with this new found maturity?”

“Cas?  I don’t know.  I guess so.”

“So?  Come on?  Are you gonna spill already?”

“About Cas?”

“Yes about Castiel Freaking Novak!  How the heck did you never mention that he was your neighbor?”

“Um…I didn’t know you were interested.  We’re not exactly book buddies.”

“You don’t know anything about his books, do you?”

“I didn’t.  He’s told me a little, but before this…I knew he was a writer.  I’ve seen his mail sometimes when ours were mixed up.  Did you know he gets fan mail?  Who even writes fan mail anymore?  But I didn’t know what kind of books or anything.  I sure didn’t know Charlie Bradbury was a fan or I definitely would have cozied up to him earlier.”

“Okay, so ignore the author thing.  You were living next to a gorgeous alpha with the most intense blue eyes anyone has ever seen and it never occurred to you to tap that?”

“Charlie!  Christ!  We’re talking about Cas here!”

“Oh, look who’s Mr. Sensitivity now,” she retorted.

“Well, anyway, it’s just not smart to play in your own pool.  Same reason never to accept a setup from a friend.  When it ends badly you just piss off your friend.”

“There’s my friend, Dean.  The biggest relationship pessimist on the planet.”

“Realist.”

She snorted her disagreement.  “Uh huh.  So you did notice that he was hot?”

“I’m not blind, Charlie.”

“Okay, so you noticed but just decided to ignore it.  How long has he lived there?”

“Three years.  Plus a little.”

“Right.  And then one day he rides to your rescue, or rides in the ambulance with you to your rescue, and what?  He just sticks around?”

“Pretty much.”

“Hmm.  No ‘get out, Cas’ or ‘what the hell are you doing here, Novak’ or ‘this is none of your business, man’?”

“Charlie, I already talked to Sam about this.”

“Yeah, well do I look like a sasquatch?  You didn’t talk to me yet.”

“I was tired and there were x-rays and blood tests and a fuckton of other crap and I was on pain meds and tired and he kept being there and…”

“And?” Her voice was quiet, like she was already caught in her own mental vision of a damaged Dean weak and tired in a hospital bed.

“It was…easy.  He didn’t want anything.  He didn’t ask for anything.  He sat next to me.  He read to me.  He brought me pie.  We played cards.  But mostly he just sat.  It made me feel…  I don’t know how to describe it, Charlie.”

“Safe?”

“No.  I mean yeah, but that’s not the thing.  Okay, it’s like you know how sometimes you’re with somebody and you know they totally adore you.  Like, you know they would do anything for you but something about that is wrong?  Like it’s just too much?  It makes you feel stifled and trapped?  With Cas, it’s like, he makes me feel…”

“What?”

He groaned internally.  Why did he agree to get grilled like this?  “Sam never hears a word of this.”

“Of course not!”  She sounded appalled.

“Precious,” he said, his voice sounding small even to himself.  He was thinking of the keychain that was in his pocket. 

“Oh.”  She took that in.  “But not smothered?”

“Yes.  Exactly.”  He was relieved that she understood.

Charlie nodded.  “What about sex?  Kind of smells like you guys are pretty hot and heavy, eh?”  She waggled her eyebrows at him.

He just shook his head.  “I already told you, Charlie.  A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Oh, whatever.  It doesn’t matter.  I can smell him all over you, so he must be pretty good.”

He gave her a side eye and said, “He’s climbing the charts.  I’m thinking he has a shot at the title.  We’ll see.”  He was pleased when she seemed to have no response to that.


	41. Forty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie and Dean finish their roadtrip

Lunch was as good as they remembered and the beer tasted like perfection after the morning behind the wheel with the sun pouring in through the windows.  Dean hadn’t realized how much he missed Charlie.  He was acting bored while internally he was grinning like a madman as she explained what she self-described as one of her “more out there” theories about Cas’s books.  It had something to do with the main character being a secret sexual sadist.

“See he fears that if his people ever find out they will lose all respect for him, and that would be the end of his life’s purpose if he can’t rule his people anymore.”

“Uh huh.”  Dean was trying to maintain the appearance of boredom, but he was now dying to know if Cas wrote his own little kink into his main character.  “So you base this conclusion on what, exactly?  Are there sex scenes where he’s hurting people?  ‘Cuz then it’s not so much of a secret, is it?”

Charlie sighed exasperatedly.  “No, Dean.  The sex is not explicit.  And the kink isn’t either.  It’s just the way he looks at people, what he notices, combined with his strength and toughness and fighting skills, and the way he carries himself.  I don’t know.  I can’t explain it.  But I still can’t shake the idea.  Besides, I said it wasn’t a popular fan theory.”

“Hmm.”  Dean took a drink of his beer.

“Of course, now that I’ve met Castiel in person I only believe it more.”

Dean sputtered and coughed, almost spitting out his beer.  “What?”

“Well, you know, writers do tend to put themselves into their books.”  She was sitting back in the booth, looking frustratingly self-satisfied.

He wanted to protest, to defend Cas, but he wasn’t sure he’d been insulted.  And he was sure that if he made too much of it, her suspicions would only increase.   _ Oh great, so instead I just stared at her with my mouth open and an idiot look on my face for ten full seconds. _  He shut his mouth and endeavored to just look annoyed.  “Whatever,” he said, taking a swig of his beer.   _ Oh yeah, great job, Winchester.  That’ll really throw her off the trail. _

Luckily the waitress came over to offer them dessert and the distraction of pie selection took over for the next few minutes, and then Charlie was off again talking this time about her roommate’s annoying bathroom habits.  The pecan pie more than made up for Dean’s earlier frustrations and they were both smiling and laughing when they walked back out to Baby.  There was a piece of paper under the windshield wiper and Dean ripped it off and threw it on the seat as he slid into the Impala.  He knew people had to use every way they could these days to try to drum up business, but he always hated the idea of a stranger touching his girl, even in such a non-invasive way. 

They headed out again, working their way toward the river bluff at Charlie’s suggestion.  Dean loved these winding roads the best.  They drove for a couple more hours until Dean found a good spot to pull off on the hills overlooking the river, and they lay on top of Baby and soaked in the sunshine for a while.  Charlie talked about a girl she had just started seeing—only two dates so far, but she showed promise.  They both talked about Sam and enjoyed analyzing his need to save the world and his refusal to focus in any way on building an actual life for himself. 

And the entire time Dean noticed that everything Charlie said made him want to talk about Castiel.  He didn’t, of course.  He wasn’t that big of a sap.  Or he sure wasn’t going to be that big of a sap in front of Charlie.  But when she talked about her first date with Dorothy, he wanted to tell her about Cas taking him out to dinner.  And when she talked about her roommate leaving her washcloths in a wad in the shower, he wanted to tell her about how Cas had gotten him the shower chair and set it up in his own bathroom for Dean.  And when she talked about her roommate’s dirty breakfast dishes he wanted to tell her about the day that Cas brought him a tray full of every known breakfast food because he “wasn’t sure which items would be most appealing” to Dean.  He wanted to tell her about Watership Down.  He wanted to tell her about Cas sleeping outside his door.  He wanted to tell her about how Cas had helped him with his physical therapy.  And what his strong, gentle hands had felt like as he held Dean’s legs and helped him bend and stretch again and again.  He wanted to tell her how Cas had pressed his lips to the cuts on Dean’s stomach, as if he could wash away Dean’s shame with his devotion.  But he would have had to tell her about the cuts.  So he didn’t.  He didn’t tell her any of those things.

He did end up telling her about Cas fighting with the dickhead beta at the Omega Center.  And she was appropriately impressed, of course, giving a little downward fist pump and quietly saying “Yes!” at appropriate points in the story, concluding with, “I couldn’t have done better myself.”

They lay on top of Baby then and looked up at the blue sky and the drifting clouds.  Dean could smell Charlie next to him, her alpha scent sort of a flowery sweet version of strong and powerful.  It was calming and he liked it.  Though he did sort of miss peppermint and pine already.

“Dean, you’re really falling for him, aren’t you?”

He bit back the automatic retort that had flown to his lips.  This was Charlie.  She just loved him.  And she was clearly trying not to be pushy—for Charlie, anyway.  So instead he murmured out an “I don’t know.”

“So what’s holding you back?”

“Well, good grief, Charlie.  Who says anything is.  It’s only been a month.  What am I supposed to be engaged already?”  Then he winced at the tone of his own voice.

But Charlie just laughed.  “I’m not asking because you should be doing anything.  I’m asking because I can tell.  You really like him.  You like him more than you’ve liked anyone you’ve been with at least since I’ve known you.  But when I ask if you’re falling for him, you don’t want to say yes.  So I’m just asking the question.  What’s holding you back?”

He sighed.  The clouds were so perfect today—billowy trails of white fluff, drifting slowly overhead, reinforcing the wonderful slow pace of their roadtrip day.  There was nowhere the clouds needed to be, they were just wandering up there, enjoying the sun.  Just like Charlie and Dean.

“Charlie, you’ve met him now.  You must see it.”  He willed her to just understand.

“See what?  I see that he adores you.  I see that he used to be lonely.  I see that he’s caring for my best friend pretty much exactly the way I would want someone to.  And I see that it isn’t just him.  You really like him, Dean.  You lean toward him when he talks.  You look at him when he walks out of the room.  You’re practically licking your lips now thinking about him.”

Dean clamped his mouth shut.  Pursed his lips.  “I’m trying.”

He could feel her eyes on him.  “Dean, I know you’re not just staying with him because he’s an alpha.  Of course you don’t want to stay with Ellen and have Bobby and Jo and everyone else all stuffed in your business when you’re working through this shit.  But you have me.  And you have Sam.  And even if you wanted to stay closer to home, I know there must be one or two alphas you’ve been with that you could trust.  He makes you feel fucking precious and not smothered at the same goddamn time, Dean.  So in my world that’s the closest I ever thought I’d come to hearing Dean Winchester sound like he’s falling in love.  Actually, closer.  But you won’t say that you are.  So you’re holding back.”

“I’m trying.”

“Is it because you think he’s too good?”

“It was.”

“You don’t think that anymore?”

“I don’t know.”

She was quiet for a minute.  “Well, I guess that’s maybe progress.  For Dean Winchester.”

They were quiet for a minute.  He was watching the clouds again.  He liked the way portions broke off and then joined with another cloud.  And how even though they were all in the same sky, some drifted by more quickly on a faster bit of wind. 

He felt Charlie’s hand drop down to rest on his arm.  “Keep trying, Dean.  I think he’s worth it.  And I know you are.”

Then she sat up and stretched, and asked “You ready to start heading back?”

*               *               *

When they got back it was after 8, and they were starving, tired but Dean felt more satisfied and happy than he had in ages.  He couldn’t wait to crawl into bed with Cas and feel the alpha’s skin against his own and fall asleep with his scent everywhere around.

Charlie was about to knock on the door because Dean was still digging around in his pocket for his key, when the door flew open and Cas was standing there, hair sticking up in all directions, looking rather alarmed for someone who had clearly been waiting for them.  He stood for a second and then was suddenly rushing past her and slamming into Dean, wrapping his arms around the startled man, squeezing tightly, apparently with none of his usual concern for Dean’s previously broken bones.  Dean wrapped his arms around Cas in return and shivered as Cas buried his nose in Dean’s neck, inhaling desperately.  Cas was almost shaking, and Dean buried one hand in Cas’s hair and pressed a bit to encourage Cas to press in tight against Dean and take whatever he needed.  They held each other tightly for a minute, inhaling each other’s scent until Cas finally relaxed his grip slightly.

He didn’t release Dean, though, still standing there, holding him and inhaling deeply.  Then he was murmuring to Dean, “I’m sorry, I…you were gone so long…I know you texted…I just…I know you were safe…but I just needed to…”  He drifted off and then pulled back from Dean, looking down at the ground rather than at Dean.

“Cas, you don’t have to apologize,” Dean said, ducking under Cas’s head slightly to catch his eyes.  “I missed you, too.”

Cas nodded, and Dean turned to the house, taking Cas’s hand.

Cas had dinner waiting for them, and they all ate and laughed, talking about their trip and sharing older roadtrip tales with Cas.  They sat at the table for a while talking until Dean said around 10 that he was exhausted.  He almost laughed at how surprised Cas and Charlie were when he admitted to this small bit of weakness that his still healing body had, and quickly offered to clean up the kitchen, sending him up to bed ahead.  He was already thinking about how good Cas’s bed was going to smell as he climbed the stairs.

*               *               *

Cas was carting their dirty dishes over from the table to the counter already as Dean went upstairs and he heard the door to his bedroom click shut.  Then Charlie was next to him, grabbing his bicep and shoving a piece of paper into his hand.

“What—”

“Just read it, Cas.”  She was talking low, almost whispering, but urgent.

He unfolded the crumpled piece of paper and shuddered.  It was a picture of Dean.  Just his face, beaten and bloody, with cuts and bruises including a large dark purple circle over his eye.  Just the way Cas had found him that night.  Underneath was hand printed “Such a slut giving yourself to two alphas now.  Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson.”  Cas’s fist closed around the paper and his other hand clutched at the counter.  He felt dizzy.

“Check the doors and windows,” he clenched out.  He knew Charlie had seen him checking some of the doors and windows earlier right after she and Dean had come home, but she didn’t question him, just turned brusquely and headed to the living room.  He moved to the alarm and checked it.  Then he took a couple of deep breaths and thought about how Dean was safe up in his bedroom.  He could hear the water running in the shower from where he stood. 

Cas opened his fist and tried to straighten the piece of paper out, laid it on the counter and took a photo with his phone, sending it to both Benny and his P.I.  When Charlie returned, they both stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter for a few minutes.  Then she described their finding the piece of paper on the car at the bar and that Dean hadn’t even looked at it.

“And you didn’t see anyone watching you?  Or following you as you drove?”

“No.  But I wasn’t really looking either.  Let’s face it, people are always looking at Dean.  But I don’t see how anyone could have followed us that entire time without Dean noticing it.”  Charlie didn’t seem like herself.  She was so quiet.  Like a seething pot about to boil over.

“I have to tell him.”

“What?” Charlie said, clearly aghast.  “Why?  What good is that going to do.”

“I promised him.  No secrets.  Not about this.  I can’t…I can’t breach his trust again.”  But I can wait until the morning.

“Wow,” Charlie said.  “Okay.  Right.  Fine.  Then, more importantly, what are we gonna do to catch this guy?”

Cas stared at her.  “I…Detective Lafitte—”

“Fuck the cops, Cas.  I can’t sit here and wait for them to get this done.  They’ve had weeks and it doesn’t seem like they’re getting anywhere.  This guy is apparently free to tail Dean everywhere he goes and taunt and threaten him!  I can’t have it.  I can’t live with this.  I have to do something.  He’s my best friend, Cas.  There has to be something I can do.”

Cas nodded.  He understood feeling helpless.  And desperate for a purpose.  For something useful to do to help Dean.  To protect Dean.  But he had no idea what Charlie could do.

“Look, Cas, what do you know about the guy?  Dean said that you scared him off?  Do you have any info on him?”

He didn’t know what to do.  Didn’t know if Dean would want him to let Charlie get involved.  He wouldn’t want her to get hurt.  On the other hand, he did let her take him out today knowing it might put her at risk.  “I have his name.  And I have a P.I. who’s been trying to track him down, so I have a file with some other information as well.”

“Oh, Cas, that’s perfect.”  She was Charlie again—almost bounding on her feet and chattering at full speed.  “Let me help your P.I.  I can track this guy’s digital footprint and maybe find out things the cops don’t because they need warrants and shit.  I can just go in backdoors and follow everywhere he’s been on the internet and find out all the crap he really doesn’t want us to know.  Your P.I. may have a techspert, but trust me, they aren’t as good as I am.”

“Okay,” Cas nodded.  “But I’ll have to tell Dean that, too.”

She raised her eyebrows and leaned back a bit.  “Okay.  I guess I can handle the Winchester heat.”

He nodded at her and gestured for her to follow him to his office.  They may as well call the P.I. now and let him get Charlie up to speed.

An hour later, he was finally crawling into bed next to Dean who was already sound asleep.  He curled up behind the omega, wrapping his body around Dean’s back, sliding his knees in behind Dean’s knees, pressing every bit of skin he could up against Dean’s warm, soft, solid flesh.  He slid an arm under Dean’s pillow and wrapped the other around his torso, and buried his face into the back of Dean’s neck.  He took a few normal breaths, waiting for his breathing to calm and become quiet and even again, then he inhaled deeply, pulling in everything he could of Dean’s scent.  He let Dean’s presence wash over and surround him—soaking in the jasmine and cinnamon and car notes, the lilac that he almost always smelled of now when he was sleeping.  Dean was here, safe in his bed, solid and real.  Nothing had happened to him.  Rolston was a coward—he hadn’t been willing to force his way past either Cas or Dean to leave his little messages.  He had only left them when the alphas were not present in places he expected Dean to find them.  So Dean would stay safe as long as they could find the man before Dean got sick of waiting and started to refuse to keep an alpha around at all times.  Cas inhaled again and let himself drift in the feeling of Dean’s strong back pressed against his chest and the comforting smells of a safe and content omega.  He had helped Dean reach this place and he allowed the sense of pride that swelled inside him to lull him to sleep.


	42. Forty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas talks to Dean; Benny and Ruby struggle

Cas woke up to Dean’s beautiful green eyes and Dean’s warm, confident hand on his cock.  Dean leaned in and kissed him, and he could immediately hear his own pulse as if the blood was rushing in his very ears.  Dean’s mouth was hot and wet, his tongue changing from insistent and aggressive to gentle and explorative and back again.  He tasted slightly sour from sleep, but also of beer and onion and something just Dean that Cas could never identify.  Cas had been feeling this now every day for almost two weeks and still couldn’t believe it was his to enjoy.

“Dean,” he groaned, “wait…”

Dean’s hand stilled on his cock but didn’t pull back.  Dean gave him his flirty half-smile and murmured, “Come on, Cas, I thought you missed me yesterday.”  He leaned in further to nuzzle against Cas’s neck and lick at his adam’s apple.

“I did, but there’s something we have to talk about.”  He moaned as he felt Dean’s teeth against his neck, nip at him and tug gently at the skin there.

“How about after…”

“No, no, Dean, please,” Cas said, his eyes closed as he tried to will himself to calm down.

“Sure, Cas.”  Dean withdrew his hand and pulled back and lay his head on his own pillow.  “What’s up?”

Cas opened his eyes.  God, Dean was beautiful.  To Cas he looked like summer itself made flesh and placed into his bed.  He smelled like relaxation and home and everything important.  He leaned over to his nightstand and picked up the piece of paper there, rolling back over and handing it to Dean.  “Charlie gave this to me last night.  She said it was left under your windshield wiper at the restaurant where you stopped for lunch.”

Dean’s brow furrowed a bit and he unfolded the paper.  He looked at it without any visible reaction for a few seconds then folded it back up and handed it back to Cas.  “Okay.”

“I haven’t heard from Detective Lafitte yet, but I sent him a photo of this and assume he will want to come talk to you and Charlie and take this paper as evidence.”

“Yeah, probably,” Dean said.  “Okay, thanks.”

“Also, um…Charlie asked…she wanted to be allowed to assist our P.I.”

  
Dean sat up and looked down at Cas.  His eyes were tight and his forehead creased.  “What did you say?”

Cas sat up and leaned against the headboard.  “I agreed.”

“Fuck, Cas!  What the hell?  Why did you do that?  Don’t you think it was enough that she was out there with me yesterday?  I should have known he would still be watching, but I just wanted…  Shit.  Cas.”  Dean rubbed the back of his neck.  “Okay, well, we just have to tell her this morning that you were wrong and we don’t want her involved.  She won’t like it, but she’ll just have to deal with it.”

“I’m afraid it’s rather too late for that.  She already has all the information our P.I. has on the…suspect.  So even if we asked her not to, I suspect she would likely continue her investigations even without your approval.”

  
“Goddamnit, Cas!”  Dean was out of bed, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed.  He stopped, facing Cas.  “Don’t you know this puts her in danger?  This isn’t her fight, man!”

Cas wanted to get up and grab Dean.  Hold him and shake him and embrace him and just…do something to make him understand.  He stayed where he was.  “She thinks it is her fight.  Because she loves you.”

Dean leaned his head back and groaned.  “For Christ’s sake, Cas.  I thought you understood.”  He started pacing again.

“I do understand, Dean.  But I also understand what it is like to love you.  To want to help and to feel helpless to do so.  Charlie deserves the chance to try to help if she wants to.  She has promised to keep her assistance entirely to the digital realm and not to act in person on anything she finds out.  I am of the impression that she is quite capable at protecting herself online.”

As he talked, Dean had suddenly stopped pacing and was just standing at the foot of the bed.  Staring at Cas.  His mouth was slightly open and Cas abruptly wondered if he had said something offensive.

“What…what did you say?”  Dean spoke quietly, still looking stunned.

“I said that Charlie seems quite proficient at her digital work and—”

“Not that.”  Dean knelt onto the mattress and crawled up to straddle Cas’s lap.  Both of his hands came up to grasp Cas’s face and his thumbs touched Cas’s lips.  He was looking at Cas intently.  “You said…you…”

Cas thought back over what he’d said.  He knew how Dean felt but he also knew how Charlie felt.  He knew Charlie was skilled and could protect herself.  What had he said wrong?  But Dean didn’t seem upset, just…uncertain?

“Cas, I thought you said you love me.”  The words came out quietly, all in a rush.  A stream of sounds that didn’t make any sense for a few heartbeats.  Then they did.  He did.  He had said it.  He had said he understood what it was like to love Dean.  Because he did.

Dean’s green eyes were watching his.  Searching.  So luminescent and calm.  “Yes,” he managed to say.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you said that?”

“Yes.  Yes I said it.  And yes, I love you, Dean.”

“Oh,” Dean said.  But he didn’t move.  He didn’t frown, in fact he was smiling a little—both sides of his mouth curled up in a soft expression that looked a bit like happiness to Cas.  And he didn’t pull away.  His hands were still on Cas’s face, one now running along his hairline and the other pressed to his jaw, the thumb still gently caressing Cas’s lower lip.  Then Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips against Cas’s, soft and full and warm and so perfect.  When he pulled back he said, “Can we finish what I started earlier?”

When Cas slid his throbbing cock inside Dean—the omega’s legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed forward close against Dean’s body, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible, and his own mouth locked onto Dean’s strong shoulder, biting his skin to help control his alpha urge to take and use and pound and own and fill—it was somehow more intense than even the first time.  The smell of Dean’s slick surrounded him and it was rapture combined with that hot channel pulling him in and Dean’s quiet moans filling his ears.  He was immediately so close to the edge that he bit into Dean’s shoulder harder than he had intended, just trying to hold back, as he started to fuck Dean with long, full strokes that just brought more focus to the incredible sensations of Dean’s tight, hot, wet ass sliding and clutching around him.  After maybe a dozen strokes he was already on the edge and then Dean shuddered and his arms and legs pulled even tighter around Cas and Dean’s voice whispered in his ear, “Oh god, yes, Cas, come for me…please…” and Dean’s ass squeezed around him and he had no more control.  He was buried inside Dean and his arms clutched the omega as electrical jolts shook through him and his body shuddered out his orgasm, coming deep inside Dean.

*               *               *

Benny woke up to a piercing pain in his temples and his arm completely numb where he had fallen asleep on it on the couch.  He groaned as he looked at the two empty whiskey bottles on his coffee table.  He shook his arm and banged it on the table a few times until it was slightly alive again and grabbed his phone.

Fuck!  He jumped to his feet too fast and had to stumble over to lean on the wall and stand with his eyes closed and head hanging down for a minute.  He stumbled his way to the kitchen and the coffee machine as he pressed the buttons to call Dean Winchester.

*               *               *

Ruby had never been so frightened in her life.  Uncle Christopher hadn’t called her directly in years, much less wanted to see her.  It had to be about that detective questioning her.  About the things she felt, the second Lafitte described them, that her uncle had done.  She didn’t know anything for sure.  She didn’t want to know.  But her uncle could hurt her so much worse than any arrest or conviction could.  Not just could—would hurt her.  If he believed that she betrayed him or gave up information on him he would make her pay.  But she didn’t have any information to give.  Surely he knew that.  Surely he couldn’t think that she would help the police.  Yes, she hadn’t adored him and followed in his footsteps like Ms. Magnificent Meg had, but she was far from stupid.

So she sat at the coffee shop, waiting for him.  Every muscle in her body tensed.  Struggling desperately to look nonchalant and relaxed.


	43. Forty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie's visit ends; Ruby and Alastair talk; Benny worries and drinks

Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop open in front of her when Dean came downstairs.  Dean’s stomach had felt vaguely unsettled all day and he could feel his shoulders slightly stiff with tension.   _ Of course I’m fucking tense with Charlie getting dragged into my fucked up shit _ , he thought, but he was determined not to take his stress out on Cas or Charlie.  Cas had been right earlier that morning when he’d pointed out to Dean that no one would be able to stop him from doing anything he could to find this guy if he had hurt Charlie. 

He poured some coffee and took his mug over to the table.  Charlie was watching him.  He took a sip, willing himself to be more like Cas—to say the right thing, not the impulsive thing.

“So,” Charlie ventured, “I’m guessing Cas told you that I’m on the case now.”

Dean nodded.  “Mmhmm.”  Took another sip of coffee.  He could totally do this.

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the last syllable like she was surprised he wasn’t jumping across the table to shake her by the neck.  “So…you’re alright with it then?”

He raised his eyebrow at her.  Kept his hands around the coffee mug.  “Would it stop you if I wasn’t?”

“No.”

“So it doesn’t seem like I have much choice.”

“Oh.”  She looked a bit confused by this turn of events.  And definitely not happy.  “Well, Dean, I…shit, I don’t want you to think I don’t care about how you feel.”

Dean sighed.  “Look, Charlie, don’t worry about it.  The point is that I understand how you feel.  I wouldn’t be able to sit back and do nothing if the situation was reversed.  I get it.  It doesn’t mean I can pretend that I’m not worried.  But you already took a risk just coming here and then taking me out, which was huge.  It’s not right for me to ask you to do that and then try to tell you that you can’t take this risk.  You gotta do what you gotta do, okay?”

Charlie looked at him for a minute and then she was out of her chair and around the table, her arms around him hugging him tightly.  After the first startled moment, he wrapped his good arm around her and hugged back.

A minute later she was back in front of her laptop, and rambling excitedly.  “I have already found out so much—”

“Charlie…”

“—about this guy.  I’ve got emails and message histories and memberships and logins and—”

“Charlie.”

“—internet traffic tracing.  So the good old doctor is definitely into some freaky shit—”

“Charlie!”

She looked up at him, startled.

“Charlie, I don’t…I don’t really want to know the details, okay?”

“Oh, right.  Sure.  I guess that….  Sorry.”  She looked sheepish now.

“It’s fine…just…give it to Cas or his P.I. or whatever they said, okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”  She shut her laptop.  “That means that after breakfast—or lunch, I guess, for those of us who had to stay in bed to make sweet love all morning—” Charlie winked at Cas as he walked into the kitchen as if on cue, “—we’ll have plenty of time before I leave for me to kick your ass in Tekken.”  She looked over at Cas who was now standing in front of the fridge with the door open, apparently waiting for food inspiration.  “I wonder if the warrior angel is any good at  _ virtual _ fighting.”

Dean grinned.  “I’m guessing it’s not his best event.”

*               *               *

Ruby watched her uncle come through the door and walk straight toward her booth.  He smiled and came around the table to put an arm around her and kiss her cheek.  His short beard rasped against her cheek and he smelled like cigars and something stale and musty.  He sat down opposite her and leaned back, still smiling.

“My dear darling little niece.  How are you?”

Ruby could feel a crawling sensation along her spine.  “I’m good, Uncle Chris.  How are you doing?”  She thought her voice sounded perfectly calm, if a little overly sweet.

“Oooh, I’m really not doing so well.”  He frowned and shook his head slowly, like a player in a melodrama.  “Have you heard that the police are looking for me?”  He spoke quietly, but there was no one to hear, only one other customer sitting in the café at the moment, on the opposite side of the room and with earbuds blasting some kind of rap in his ears.

“Yes, well, I may have…heard something like that.”

“Is that so?  Would that be from your new detective friend?”

“What—no!  We’re not friends.  He just asked me some questions.  Mostly about Meg.”

“Yes.  I’m sure he did.”  He leaned forward, elbow on the table and chin in hand.  “I would like you to tell me everything he asked and everything you said.”

She swallowed.  It was fine.  She hadn’t incriminated her uncle or said anything much about him at all.  Hell, she didn’t know anything  _ to _ tell.  So she started with Detective Lafitte’s first visit to her house and did her best to recall everything she could.

An hour later she was done and feeling so relieved and somewhat foolish for having been worried.  Uncle Chris had said almost nothing as she spoke, just encouraging her a bit when she paused to try to recall something.  She looked at him and he looked the same as ever, calm and with that small, tight smile.  He was quiet for a full minute, then he said quietly, “You gave the detective your sister’s laptop?”

“Yes.”   _ Oh, shit _ .

“Mmhmm.  And you talked to him about her sexual activities.”

“Um…yes.  I mean, just a little.  I didn’t know a lot.  We weren’t…she didn’t…”  She was starting to shake.

“Shut up!” he hissed.  “I don’t know how you could betray your own sister—making her work, her art, what she had worked for years to perfect, sound like some deviant backwoods aberration.  Thank  _ god _ she is gone and can’t hear your disgusting opinions.”  He spit the words out like they disgusted him as much as Ruby did.

Ruby’s hands were clutched in her lap and she stared hard at the table in front of her.

“Did you bring what I asked for?”

She scrambled for her bag.  “Yes, I got the envelope.  It was just where you said it would be.  I didn’t look inside, so it’s just the way Meg left it.”  She drew the large manila envelope out of her tote and slid it across the table.

Uncle Chris took hold of it, opened the metal clasp and reached in.  He pulled out a stack of five by seven photographs and flipped through them.  Ruby could only see glimpses of dark backgrounds and skin.  When she saw blood she flinched and dragged her eyes to her lap.  He continued to flip through them and she thought she occasionally heard him sigh.  After a few minutes he set the stack down and reached into the envelope again.  Ruby looked up and watched him pull a keychain out with a single key.

“I gave this to Meg on her last birthday.  I spent months making it into the perfect studio for her.  A place where she could…hone her skills.”  Ruby was afraid to move.  He wasn’t even talking to her anymore.  Just talking, lost in his own memories.  “When she saw it, she cried.  She wouldn’t take anyone there—kept waiting for the right subject.  She finally found him, but then….”

Ruby tried not to make any noise.  She was barely breathing.  But Uncle Chris had stopped talking.  He was just staring at the key in his hand.  She waited.  And waited.  Then her foot hit the table leg.  She hadn’t realized until then that it was shaking.  Her uncle’s eyes flew up and rested on her.  There was no smile now.

“She found someone she thought was perfect.  But she never got the chance to take him there.”

They stared at each other.  Ruby was still shaking, one hand pressing into her leg trying to hold it still.  Then her uncle’s face shifted, relaxed, and a smile spread on his face.  Ruby’s stomach churned.  She scooted out of her bench in the booth, as she said, “Excuse me, Uncle Chris, I have to use the restroom.”  She bolted for the bathroom and locked the door behind her then slammed to her knees in front of the toilet, retching and choking out her breakfast.

When she got back to the booth, he was still there, of course.  A small part of her had started to hope that maybe it was done now that he had the envelope he wanted.  But she had known it was a fantasy.

When she sat, he reached an arm across the table and laid his hand over hers, saying with a sickeningly sweet tone, “Oh, my dear, are you alright?  You look a little…poorly.”

“I’m—” her voice was awful and she tried to clear her throat then started again.  “No, I’m fine.”

“Good.  Because I’m going to need you.”  His handed started squeezing hers.  “I’m going to finish Meg’s work.”  He was squeezing hard now and Ruby struggled to stay still—to not squirm and crawl in the seat and try to wrench her arm back.  “And you’re going to help me.  You’re going to be the sister in death that you never were in life.  I can count on you, Ruby.  Can’t I?”

She nodded.

He loosened his grip and then patted her hand gently.  It sent angry sparks up her arm.  “Excellent.  I have a role I would like you to play for me and if you do it well, then Meg and I will both forgive you.”  He reached for the photographs and dropped them and the key into the envelope and pressed the clasp closed again.  He slid out of the booth and stood next to Ruby, putting a hand into her hair and gripping the back of her neck tight.  “I will call you soon, sweetheart.”  He leaned down and kissed her cheek again, then turned and strode out of the café.

*               *               *

Benny pulled out of Castiel’s driveway, drove around the block and parked his car.  He reached into the glovebox and pulled out the almost empty bottle.  He stared at the piece of paper in his hand and opened the bottle.  He drank the remaining whiskey without stopping and swallowed hard, grimacing with the burn as it went down.  He stared at Dean’s beaten and bloody face and read the threat over and over again. 

_ Looks like you haven’t learned your lesson. _

It was  _ Alastair _ who hadn’t learned his lesson.  Benny had to find him.  Had to keep him from harming Dean again or targeting someone else and torturing them.  But he had no idea how.  He screwed the cap back on the bottle and dropped it on the seat, then pulled out to head for the liquor store.  He would get a couple bottles and then stake out the Novak house.  Clearly Alastair was watching Dean, or had someone else helping him.  He would have to slip up some time and Benny would just have to be there in person to catch it.

*               *               *

Ruby sat in the café for fifteen minutes after her uncle left, trying to still her shakes and calm her seething stomach.  She thought about calling the police, but they wouldn’t protect her.  Even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t pay for someone to be with her 24/7.  And clearly Chris had been watching her.  She didn’t want him to hurt anyone else.  But…she didn’t want to die.  Or maybe something worse.  She had seen some pictures of what Meg liked to do and that was for fun.  With people who liked it.  Uncle Chris was…insane was a conservative way of putting it, in her opinion.  She had felt lucky her entire life that his favor and attention had fallen on Meg instead of herself.  But now….

Then she thought about Meg, cold and inert, in a coffin in the ground.  Maybe it was her fault that she was there.  Maybe if she had protected Meg from Chris’s attention, she would have gotten help and been okay.  Gone to college and met a nice guy.  Had some kids.  Ruby would have liked to have been an aunt.  She would have made a great aunt—taking the kids to the zoo and spoiling them rotten.  Teaching them dirty jokes and how to whistle.  But Ruby had just been glad it wasn’t her.  And then she had sat back and watched Meg get worse and worse, feeling more and more helpless and never doing anything.

She reached into her purse and pulled out Detective Lafitte’s card, and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

*               *               *

“Hey, Cas, is that your phone?” Dean called out to Cas from the living room.

“Um, no, I think mine is in the office.”  Dean heard Cas walk to the kitchen where the digital melody was ringing.  Walking back into the living room with the phone he said, “It’s not ours.  Do you think it’s Charlie’s?” 

Dean looked over and snorted.  “Nah, she has some kind of anime character with a sword on her case.  Maybe Benny left his.”

Cas walked back to his office and Dean followed him as he tried Benny’s number and sure enough, the phone in his other hand rang.  Dean leaned in the doorway as Cas sat down at his desk and called the police station to let them know.  When Cas hung up, he said “So do you have a lot of work to do?”

Cas tilted his head and looked at Dean appraisingly.  “Nothing that couldn’t wait.”  God, that gravelly voice did things to Dean.

Dean smiled.  “Good.  I want you to fuck my face as hard as you can.”  He waited a few heartbeats, watching Cas’s eyes turn dark and waiting until the scent of Cas’s arousal hit him.  His cock twitched and he knew he would be dripping slick in another minute.  He turned and started walking to the stairs.  A moment later he heard Cas growl (God, he fucking loved that sound coming from this usually calm, gentle man), and then Cas pressed him face first against the wall and pushed his whole body up against Dean’s, hard and hot.  Dean could feel Cas’s cock already half hard, pressed up against the top of his ass.  Cas buried his face into Dean’s neck and his breath was hot.  His voice was low and hungry-sounding as he said, “You are such a little tease, aren’t you, Dean?  You like to get me hot and see what I’ll do, don’t you?”

Dean tried to wend his good hand down between them to touch Cas’s cock, and Cas grabbed his hand and pulled it back behind him, not painfully, but his grip so strong that there was no way Dean could have escaped it.

“Well, you’re going to get exactly what you asked for, Dean.  I’m going to fuck your hot, sweet, perfect mouth until you’re hoarse.”  Then Cas picked Dean up and threw him over his shoulder like a fireman and took the stairs up two at a time.  Holy fuck, Cas was strong, and so what if Dean absolutely loved it.  He was dripping wet in more ways than one by the time Cas threw him on the bed and started pulling his own pants open.  He rushed to kneel on the carpet before Cas and sucked the alpha’s cock into his mouth the second it was released.  Cas moaned and let his head drop back as Dean’s tongue swirled around his head and then his length, suckling gently a few times, before settling down to business.  As he started sucking hard and bobbing back and forth, taking long drags over the full length of Cas’s dick, he looked up at Cas’s face and watched the alpha collect himself slightly and drop his head back down to look at Dean.  He loved to see the effect on Cas’s face of looking at Dean’s mouth stretched over his cock.  Cas looked like he was seeing a miracle take place.  His eyes were wide and dark and his mouth was partially open, tongue against his teeth, occasionally slipping out to lick his wonderful, pink, full, always chapped looking lips.  After a few strokes, he felt both of Cas’s hands come up around the sides of his head and his fingertips dig into Dean’s hair.  The palms of Cas’s hands pressed against his ears and he held Dean’s head still, the head of his mouth resting on Dean’s tongue.

“You want me to fuck your mouth, Dean?”  Cas asked.  Dean felt slick slide down his crack and he moaned with need.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed in agreement and gave a tiny nod.

“Okay, but I had something in mind for later, so if this is going to wear you out, I think maybe we should hold off.” 

Dean groaned.  Cas called him a tease, but he was clearly starting to enjoy teasing Dean as well.  Dean sucked hard and slid his tongue into Cas’s slit.

“Oh fuck, Dean,” Cas moaned, and his hips jerked forward.  “Fine.  If that’s what you want.”  He squeezed his palms a bit harder, holding Dean’s head still and rocked his hips backward and forward a couple times.  Then he suddenly clenched his fingers even tighter around the back of Dean’s head and he started slamming his hips back and forth, fucking Dean’s mouth, first with a few short strokes and then quickly shoving hard all the way to the back of Dean’s throat, his hands holding Dean in place and giving him nowhere to go as the head of Cas’s long cock shoved in and out of his throat.  Dean felt sore and achy after only a dozen strokes and his slick was making him a little cold and uncomfortable.  But the feeling of Cas’s cock forcing its way into his throat was making his own cock throb and leak where it was confined painfully in his pants.  Cas’s hands pressed harder and tighter around his face and the back of his head and his dick rammed in and out of Dean.  He tried to look up at Cas, but his eyes were watering and Cas’s head was hanging back anyway, eyes apparently closed as he grunted with each thrust and jammed into the back of Dean’s throat over and over again.  Dean closed his eyes and just soaked up the feeling of Cas’s hands, his cock, his pelvis when it smashed into Dean’s face, his scent, his power.  Fuck, yes, Cas, so fucking strong, so fucking good.  Then he heard Cas’s deep, low voice in grunted breaths, murmuring as he fucked Dean’s mouth, “Fuck…yes…Dean…so…precious…love you…so much…fuck…so hot…perfect…”  Then Cas’s hips were stuttering and he pulled Dean’s head forward hard into his stomach at the same time he slammed his hips forward and Dean was buried in Cas and Cas was buried in his throat and his come was pulsing down the back of Dean’s throat and he thought Cas was right that it was the hottest and most perfect thing ever.


	44. Forty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little porn for the weekend.

Dean’s entire body was trembling in need and he wasn’t sure if he’d been required to move if his limbs would have had the strength.  He had never felt so much ecstasy before without pain being included in the mix of sensations.  For years he hadn’t even bothered to masturbate without a knife or a lighter in his other hand.  But Cas had brought him to this state with nothing other than his own mouth and hands.  Well, those and his low, gravelly voice, his intensely blue eyes and that scent of his that spoke to Dean of hunger and home somehow at the same time.

“Dean, you are doing so good,” Cas said, as his hot wet mouth suckled on three of Dean’s toes.  “Just a little longer for me, okay?  And then you’re going to come for me one more time.”

Dean heard a soft little whine come out of his own throat as he clenched his hands around one of the horizontal slats in the headboard.  He couldn’t imagine how he could possibly come again—for the fifth time that afternoon.  He wasn’t a submissive who had been trained for this kind of thing.  He couldn’t come on command, and most of the partners he had been with hadn’t really cared about making him come multiple times.  But Cas seemed just as confident as ever that he would be able to wring out of Dean’s shaking and tired body exactly the reaction he wanted.  And Dean did somehow want to try.

It was Cas.  Dean had never given a shit about submitting to anyone or serving his partner before.  Never wanted to be told what to do except as a means of getting what he wanted in return.  But this soft spoken blue-eyed alpha, with his serious stare and his constant words of devotion had Dean feeling so many foreign things.  After fucking Dean’s face with abandon, he had lifted Dean up, dropped him on the bed and lay next to him caressing Dean’s face and throat and gazing at him like he was something miraculous.  Dean never knew what to say when Cas looked at him like that—which was at least a few times every day it seemed.  He knew he wasn’t whatever Cas seemed to be seeing.  But he also knew Cas didn’t want to hear that.  So he tried to allow himself to just enjoy it and it was becoming easier and easier to do.  Easier to let that voice inside him (and etched on his stomach) fade away and instead hear Cas’s gravelly tones calling him good and beautiful and fucking precious.  He still didn’t believe those things, but he understood now that Cas did.

Cas’s hot, wet mouth was now slowly making its way up his legs and Dean was calming down a bit from the tense mix of slightly ticklish and utterly arousing sensations that Cas’s mouth on his very sensitive toes and feet had brought out of him.  Cas’s mouth had already covered every spot on his body at least twice in the hours he had now spent essentially worshiping Dean’s body.  And Dean still didn’t understand why this was so fucking hot.  He knew he would have been bored and anxious if anyone else had wanted to do this.  Dean was good at making other people feel good, and he didn’t mind taking his time to do it, but when it came to his own pleasure he had always preferred to get straight to the intense straight-on fucking or to the pain, or even better, both at the same time.  And a few times that afternoon he had found it difficult to remain still and simply allow this attention, but it sure as fuck was never out of boredom.  There was just something about Cas.  It had something to do with  _ intention _ , Dean thought.  Cas wanted to feel and touch Dean—wanted to make Dean feel things.  His scent wreaked with how aroused he was every moment he touched or licked or bit or sucked or caressed Dean.  And Dean couldn’t help but respond to the alpha’s desire.

Especially when Cas asked for permission every goddamn time.  After staring at Dean and caressing his face for a while he had popped out with a request for Dean to let him have his way with him that afternoon.  No one had ever said anything like it to Dean before.  “There is something I would like to do, and I suspect it may make you feel rather uncomfortable, but I would like to ask you to trust me.”  What the hell?  So he had asked a couple more questions and gotten no better explanation and in the end he had agreed.  What else could he do.  All of his instincts were screaming at him to do whatever Cas asked. 

So Cas had proceeded to take Dean apart in ways Dean had no idea that anyone could.  He thought he needed to be fucked to feel satisfied when he came.  But Cas had sucked him dry and he had never noticed that empty feeling in his ass that had always marked blowjobs before.  He thought he needed to be in control to fully relax and feel the sort of easy, effortless orgasm that you only could when you masturbated.  But Cas had nuzzled against his neck, licking and sucking gently and murmuring praise and adoration, and slipped one narrow, gently finger inside Dean and rocked it against his prostate and Dean had spurted his release with no warning, and it felt like letting go.  He thought he needed to feel pain to have that over-the-top earthquake type orgasm that shakes your entire body for minutes afterward.  But Cas had pressed his legs against his chest, shoved his face into Dean’s ass and tongue fucked him until he was shaking with the need to come and then Cas had wrapped his hand around Dean, tight and hot and pumped him in time with his tongue shoving into Dean’s hole and Dean had come hard and long, squeezing his thighs tight around Cas’s head without meaning to, his entire body shaking and convulsing for so long after that when he had come back to himself, Cas was leaning over him, with a hand resting against Dean’s face and a concerned look on his own.

As Cas reached Dean’s sensitive thighs, Cas tugged a bit on his legs, urging Dean to roll over.  When Dean’s cock hit the fabric of the sheets, he jerked at the sensation and rutted into the bed slightly.  Holy fuck.  He hadn’t realized how hard he was.  How could Cas have gotten him hard again like this again?  The head of his cock was over-sensitive now and it almost hurt to rub against the sheets.  Cas reached up with both hands and squeezed the cheeks of his ass, pressing him slightly to the mattress and stilling his movement.  Then Cas’s hands slid down and in sliding between his legs and then pressing against his thighs, making Dean open his legs wide.  He felt Cas’s hot breath on the back of his balls and then a long wet tongue licked a stripe up his sac and perineum, over his hole and up his crack.  A shiver shook Dean and he reached up to grab the headboard again.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned.  “I don’t think I can take much more.”

Cas’s tongue swirled around his hole and Dean felt his stubble against his balls.  Then Cas murmured, “It’s okay, Dean, I’ve got you.  I know you can handle this.  You’re so good, Dean.  You’re going to come just one more time for me.”

“Cassss…” Dean breathed as Cas plunged his tongue inside.

“Mmm, Dean,” Cas said, his voice sounding lower than ever, “I love the way you taste.”  He licked and sucked at Dean’s hole, the slurping noises obscene and even hotter because of it.

“Cas, I…”  Dean panted.  He was shaking.  He needed…he didn’t know what.  Something.  “Please…”

Cas’s tongue was gone suddenly and then the solid heat of Cas’s body was pressed along his length, his own hard cock sliding between Dean’s legs, rubbing against his balls and ass and Cas’s mouth was at his ear, saying “Yes, Dean, tell me…what do you need?” and his lips wrapped around Dean’s earlobe for a moment, then his mouth slid down to Dean’s neck and he sucked and bit as Dean tried to make sense of the question.

_ Need…I need…Cas…need…something…   _ The alpha’s weight and heat along his back pressing him down into the mattress felt so soothing and still made him need more.  He needed Cas to be…  “You…inside me…Cas, please…” he whispered, unsure if he could even be heard.  He would never have let himself sound so desperate before, but Cas had spent hours now tearing him apart and making him feel things that Dean thought were only fantasies of lonely erotica writers. 

But Cas must have heard him, as he lifted his hips up and rubbed his cock harder against Dean’s ass.

“You want to have your last orgasm with my hard cock inside your tight little ass, Dean?  Would you like to be full of my thick cock?”  He rocked back and forth against Dean’s ass, his chest pressing down against Dean’s upper back and Dean wanted to scream with how much he wanted that.

All Dean managed was a slight nod into the mattress, but it seemed to be enough, because he felt Cas rock to one side and slide his hand down Dean’s back to spread his cheeks open and guide the alpha’s cock up to his hole.  It felt huge and so hot and Dean rocked up into Cas, wanting him inside, wanting to be fucked, wanting to be full.  He heard a quiet whimpering noise and realized with embarrassment that he had made it.

Cas pressed into him and he had been so ready for so long that he just slid straight in until he was fully seated.  Cas brought his hand back up to the mattress and immediately started fucking into Dean, his weight pressing him down to the mattress, and causing delicious almost painful friction on Dean’s own hard, dripping cock.  The sensation of that huge cock filling him up and Cas’s heavy, hot body on top of him was incredible and Dean realized he was going to come again.  Soon.

But it was fine because Cas was already panting out praise as he always did when he was about to come.  “God, yes, Dean…so good…you’re so tight…so precious…so good for me…today…so perfect…so beautiful…oh god…fuck…Dean…” and his pace became fast and hard, slamming into Dean and shoving him into the mattress so that Dean made little “unh” noises with each thrust and he was getting so close and he couldn’t believe he could come again, but he was right there at the edge and Cas rammed in and Dean was gone, over the edge, shaking and coming uncontrollably, as Cas slumped onto his back and kissed his neck.


	45. Forty-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a nightmare; Dean freaks out; Dean calls Sam. WARNINGS FOR: Brief scene at the beginning referencing the Alastair torture, so references to violence and abuse. Not an actual scene of the events and only about the first four or five paragraphs of the chapter.

This wasn’t how it happened.  It had to be a dream—just a nightmare.  Some part of him screamed at him that if you knew it wasn’t real you could change it—take over the dream—make it end.  But Dean felt just as trapped in this twisted version of reality as he had those horrible days a month ago.  He was tied to his own dining room table, face down and spread eagled, seemingly every portion of his body screaming with pain.  He could feel something wet sliding down his balls from his ass and knew he must be bleeding.  The Man paced around him, just circling and circling over and over again and the tension and horror of what might come next had Dean’s heart racing and his stomach a turbulent mess.   _ Wake up!  Wake up! _  But The Man just walked around him, his face stormy, as if furious with Dean for still being conscious, or alive, or perhaps for still being sane.

He closed his eyes and almost immediately his pain started to ease.  He smelled something wonderful—something like winter fires and peppermint.  He imagined and could almost feel a warm hand sliding across his bare shoulders, sending warmth and comfort tingling through his flesh wherever it touched.  He hadn’t opened his eyes, but he still saw bright blue eyes looking at him with a strange intensity and focus.  Castiel.  His neighbor.  Why was Castiel in his nightmare?  He didn’t care, he just wanted more of the man—wanted him to touch everywhere—look everywhere—spread his wonderful scent all around Dean.

A cold, rough, hard hand grabbed his jaw and shook his head.  “Open your eyes, Dean.  No fair trying to get away from me, you know.”  The Man was staring at him where he thought he had just seen Cas.  Stabbing pains came from his arm and toes.  His ass, back and chest were all burning.  He tried to hold on to his neighbor’s scent—not just his neighbor—Cas was his lover now, right?  They were together, weren’t they?  He needed that scent—he needed it’s comfort and safety.  He needed Cas to tilt his head and look at Dean with those eyes and speak to him with that gravelly voice in his overly formal way.

“Where do you think you’re going, Dean?”  The Man whispered in his ear.  Dean could smell his breath, which was like something rotten or dead.  He gagged a little and swallowed the bile back down.  “You think your little alpha Castiel is going to show up and save you?”  The Man laughed hysterically as if it were the greatest joke in the world.  “What a joke!  He really has you fooled, doesn’t he?  Got the little omega thinking he’s special so he can take what he wants, fuck you and use all your little holes.  But you know he’s going to throw you away when he’s tired of you, don’t you?  And it won’t take long for that to happen with the worthless piece of trash you are, Dean.”

Dean whimpered and closed his eyes, desperately trying to hang onto that peppermint and pine smell.  But it was fading so quickly and behind it there was just his own sweat and pain and fear and The Man’s sick breath.  “You’re just a useless slut, aren’t you, Dean?  A whore for alphas to use and hurt and torture.  What will Castiel think when he understands how much you love being beaten and cut and burned?”  The Man was wrong—Cas  _ did _ care about him.  But Dean knew he was also right—that he didn’t deserve Cas’s love—that he wasn’t the perfect, strong, brave, altruistic man that Cas thought he was.  And when Cas really understood Dean, those blue eyes would turn cold and hard and that warm, low voice would turn to steel.  He could feel tears sliding from his eyes and his body start to shake.  A hole had opened inside his chest between his ribs and he could feel it spreading into an empty pit of loss.  He clenched his eyes shut hard and pleaded with God to send him back that smell—to just let him have one more taste of Cas’s scent—one more taste of his lips, his tongue…

And then it worked.  Either there was a God and his prayers were heard or he could control his dreams after all, because The Man was fading away and even Dean’s dining table was fading away and instead of being tied to it he was laying on a bed and partially on Castiel and Cas’s body was there, warm and somehow hard and soft at the same time, and Cas’s arms were wrapped around him and one hand was rubbing up and down his spine in these soothing long strokes.  And Cas’s lips were buried in the hair on the top of Dean’s head and a low, rumbling of silk was coming from his lips, that slowly morphed into words, into Cas’s gravel tones.  “…safe, Dean…I’ve got you…it’s all over…you’re here with me in my bed, in my house, and we’re going to keep you safe…you’re so brave…you’ve done so amazingly well, Dean…I’m so proud of you…I know I have no right to be…you’re so precious, Dean, so strong…”  Dean inhaled and Christmas and carnivals bloomed in his nose and there was no pain anymore—his body felt relaxed and the lack of pain was almost like ecstasy.   _ It’s safe.  This is real.  That was just a dream. _

He opened his eyes and saw Cas’s pale broad chest with the little bit of dark hair scattered across his pecs and he tilted his head up and saw Cas’s eyes—a sort of soft patriot blue color—looking at him.  He thought they looked wet, as if there were some unspilled tears that had been waiting there.  He reached up a hand and tentatively ran a finger across Cas’s bottom lip.  It was exactly right—slightly dry, but soft and pliable and warm and twisting up just a bit into a smile as Dean touched.

“Cas,” Dean sighed.

“Dean.”  It sounded like an affirmation to Dean.  Like Cas was saying “I love you” and “The nightmare is over” and “This is real” all in that one syllable.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, suddenly embarrassed, though he couldn’t have said why.

Cas’s brow furrowed and Dean was sure that if he hadn’t been laying down he would have tilted his head to look at Dean.  “Dean, why are you apologizing?”

“I…I don’t know?”

Cas chuckled.  “Okay.  Well, I don’t believe you have done anything that requires an apology.  In fact, what I really want to say to you is thank you.”  He placed emphasis on the last two words making them sound full of import and meaning somehow, like a response to some kind of great gift that had been bestowed on him.  And Dean had definitely not given Cas any great gifts recently.  Or ever.

“Um…for?” Dean asked, knowing he looked as confused as he felt.

Cas’s arm squeezed Dean tightly to him again, and he pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead.  “For yesterday.  For letting me have may way with you for so long.  For being so patient and giving and allowing me to do as I wanted—to explore you that way.  You were so beautiful for me, Dean.”  He paused and kissed Dean’s cheek and nose a few times and Dean was just trying to figure out what to say when Cas spoke again.  “Dean, I…I have never…doing that with you…having you in my bed like that, giving me your trust, just taking whatever pleasure I could give you like that, for hours, being so good, it…it was the most pleasure I have ever felt in my life.”  The last phrase came out in a rush and it took Dean a moment to understand.  Cas said that giving Dean orgasm after orgasm and barely eventually even getting to come himself only when Dean begged him for a fuck was the most pleasure…   _ Holy fuck. _  Cas’s eyes were still piercing into his own and he could almost feel Cas willing him to believe.  And of course he believed Cas.  He was just so fucking sincere.  He meant what he said, Dean had no doubt.  But it was just…it was just so…

Dean felt lightheaded.  Was he breathing?  He needed more air.  He sat up and tried to take in more air, but there wasn’t enough.  He was breathing faster and faster now and he closed his eyes, trying to just focus on breathing, but of course thinking about it so hard just made it worse.  He could tell he was hyperventilating.  He could feel Cas sit up and reach out to touch his arms, heard Cas say his name with concern.  He had to get out of there.  He suddenly threw himself out of the bed and practically ran down the hall and slammed into his own bathroom, shutting and locking the door.  He leaned over the sink and panted, trying to count slowly in his head long with his breaths.  Eventually it worked and he was breathing again.  He sat down on the toilet and just breathed and counted for a while.  When Cas eventually knocked, he said he was fine and would be out in a minute.  Cas said he would go down and make breakfast and Dean should take his time but let him know if he needed anything, and then Dean heard the creak of the stairs as Cas descended.  He opened the bathroom door and pulled out some sweats from the dresser.

Two minutes later he was sitting on his bed with the phone to his ear.

“Dean!”  At the sound of Sam’s voice, Dean’s breathing and heart that he had so carefully calmed down picked up again.

  
“Sam,” he said.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”  Sam’s voice was quiet now and his focus could almost be heard through the phone.  Dean pictured him pulling a tent flap down and dropping onto a cushion (having of course no real idea what Sam was really doing at that moment).

“Sammy, I…I don’t know what to do,” he croaked.

“Okay, it’s okay, Dean, we’ll figure it out.  What happened?  Is it to do with the investigation?”

“No no, it’s not that.  It…”  What?  What was it?  Why had he even called Sam?  Fuck shit fuck.

“Alright, is it Cas?”

Dean squirmed.  “Yes.  I mean, no.  I…  shit, Sammy…”

“Okay, so it’s something about Cas.  So, it doesn’t sound like you’re mad—so he didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

“Of course not, Sam!  Jesus Christ, Cas would never…”  They were the first words he’d said that sounded like himself and he knew it.

  
“Sorry.  I’m just…give me some help here, Dean.”

“He…he said…”

“He said what, Dean?”

“I don’t think I can handle this, Sammy.”

“First, Dean, you’re fucking Dean Winchester.  You can handle anything.  You handled our father.  You handled raising me single-handedly as a child, for Christ’s sake.  And call me cocky if you want, but I think I turned out pretty damn good which is all because of you.  And you survived one of the most vicious attacks we’ve ever heard of, the kind of attack that killed other people.  So I know there isn’t anything in creation that you can’t handle.  We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Okay, well just try to tell me what got you freaked out.  You can do this, Dean.”

“Cas…he…he doesn’t get it, Sammy.  He thinks…he thinks he loves me and he doesn’t even know me.”

“Oh Dean…  Everybody already knew that Cas was in love with you.  Bobby and Charlie told me, and I think it was pretty clear from his actions anyway.  And I know you’ve had a few people tell you those three little words before without it freaking you out like this.  So what makes this time so different?”

“Because he doesn’t get it.  And when he does get it, it’s all gonna be over.”

“Uh huh.  So it isn’t Cas loving you that’s the problem.  It’s that you don’t want him to stop loving you.”  Sam’s voice was quieter, slow and careful.  As if talking to a skittish kitten.

Dean looked at the bed between his legs.   Yeah, no fucking shit, Sammy.  He wanted to stay here.  He wanted to feel Cas’s arms around him tomorrow morning and the next morning and the next morning.  He wanted to feel Cas’s cock sliding into his ass and Cas whispering into his ear that he was precious and perfect.  He wanted to learn about the origin of Cas’s tattoos and maybe help him pick out the next one.  He wanted Cas to help him pick out his first one.  He wanted to bake Cas every kind of pie he knew and watch him eat it.  He wanted to meet Cas’s “hurricane” of a brother and sweet Omega-supporting sister.  He wanted Sam and Cas to be friends and to hear them join in together to give him shit.  He wanted Cas to beat him and whip him and then tell him he was beautiful when he came from it.  And he knew he wasn’t going to get any of those things.  Not when Cas really understood what Dean was.

“Dean?”

“Huh?”

“Dean, you love him.”

“No…I just…”   _Fuck._

“Yes.  You do.  And that’s not a bad thing, you jerk.  It’s amazing.”

“He’s too perfect, Sam.”

Sam laughed.  “No one is too perfect, Dean.  He’s just a man.  And an alpha at that, so you know he has to have some temper and possessiveness issues, okay.”

Dean almost smiled.  “I think I should just get out now.  Before it gets worse.”

“No!” Sam almost shouted.  “Now listen to me, Dean.  I’m gonna be in the states in three days and I absolutely forbid you to dump this guy before I’ve even had a chance to meet him.  Okay?  And we can talk then.”

“Uh…I guess…”

“Dean, I know I haven’t met him yet, but from what I hear he’s smart enough to make his own judgments.  You have to trust him to do that.  That’s how relationships work.  You decide whether you want to be with him because of what you want and what’s good for you.  Not what’s good for him.  You have to let him figure that out.  Because what’s good for each of us isn’t the same thing.  You don’t know what he really wants or needs or is best for him or will make him the most happy.  Maybe what he wants is a bossy, green-eyed, overly macho omega, who thinks he knows what’s best for everyone around him and will never take what he needs for himself.  It sounds crazy to us, but there could be someone out there who likes that and maybe it’s this Castiel guy.”

“Funny, Sam.”

“Yah, I know,” Sam said, seriously sounding proud of himself.  What a brat.  “But there’s a real point there, Dean.  You don’t break up with someone for their own good.  That’s egotistical and shows no respect for Cas.  You don’t know better than he does what he wants in life.  You have to get that through your head or you’ll never let yourself be happy, Dean.  And even if you don’t agree completely, you at least agree to wait until after I’m there, right?”

“Yeah, okay.”  Dean didn’t really feel better about Cas, but it was sinking in that he was going to see Sam in just a few days.  And that was fucking awesome!  And it would be nice to have Cas meet Sam.  He wanted Cas to see the best thing about him and everyone knew that was Sam.  “It’s gonna be so good to see you, Sammy.”

“I know.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Do you need a ride or anything from the airport?”

“Nah, I’m flying in to KC and Bobby’s gonna pick me up and we’ll make the drive over to you.”

“Okay, then just text and let me know when to expect you.”

“Will do.  And try to relax and just enjoy this thing with Cas a little.”

“I…I was trying…”

“Okay, good!  That’s good, Dean.  Just keep doing that.”

“Yeah.  Okay.”

“See you Saturday.”

“Saturday.” 

  
Dean hung up and realized he did feel a little better.  He knew Sam had a good point, but he also didn’t know how long he could hang on and wait for that moment—for Cas’s eyes to change how they looked at Dean and grow cold when he realized Dean was just a worthless bit of waste.  But he could keep his promise and wait until after Sam was home.  God, it was going to be so awesome, seeing Sam!

His stomach growled and he remembered Cas was cooking breakfast, so he grabbed a t-shirt and made his way downstairs.  When he got to the kitchen, there was a stack of pancakes already on the table, and Cas was sitting there, but he hadn’t served himself anything, just had his head in his hands over his mug of coffee.   _ Shit. _  Dean tugged the chair next to Cas over closer to Cas and put his hand on Cas’s arm.  Cas looked up and his eyes were red and watery.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean tried, “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have run out like that when you were talking.  I…”

“No, I’m sorry, Dean, I must…I must have overwhelmed you yesterday.  I should have known I was pushing too hard.”

  
“No, Cas!” Dean insisted, more forcefully, squeezing Cas’s arm a little bit.  “No, please don’t apologize.  Yesterday was unbelievable.  I…  Shit, Cas, I’ve been around the block a bit and no one has ever…  Just don’t apologize for that, okay?”

“Okay, Dean.  But I must have said something wrong this morning.  You were clearly upset.”

“You didn’t say anything wrong.  What you said…it was definitely not wrong.  I just…”  Dean closed his eyes.  Why was he such a fucking wuss?  He heard Cas’s voice in the hospital admitting that he had feelings for Dean.  And asking Dean to stay with him.  And telling Dean he was brave.  And saying that he loved Dean.  Was he really going to just cower away from all of this and never admit how he felt about Cas?  Cas deserved to know, even if he was eventually going to move on from Dean, he deserved more right now.

“I love you.”

Cas was staring at him.  His eyes had turned into giant saucers. 

  
“Cas?”

“You…did…”

Dean smiled.  Cas’s arm underneath his hand was trembling.  “I love you, Cas.”

Cas’s face broke out into a huge grin.  And then he had leaned forward and was kissing Dean desperately.  The kiss was all fire and need and passion and Cas’s tongue was in his mouth and he felt possessed and owned by Cas and he wanted even more.  He wanted Cas to plunder him and use his mouth and anything else he wanted.  His cock was responding, filling with blood and starting to pulse with excitement and pleasure as Cas’s lips pressed and moved against his own and his tongue twirled around Dean’s and ran over Dean’s teeth and his teeth bit at Dean’s lip.  Electric shocks ran through his body from where their mouths were connected down his spine to his cock and his ass and he could feel himself becoming slick with desire.  For this alpha.

Cas broke off the kiss finally after they were both panting and they rested with their foreheads against each other for a few moments.  Then Cas pulled back and looked at Dean.

“We should eat.  Because I want to spend all day in bed with you.”

Dean groaned and he felt his cock twitch and leak a drop of precum.  He licked his lips and saw Cas’s eyes follow the movement of his tongue.  A moment later he smelled Cas’s arousal filling the kitchen. 


	46. Forty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an extra long chapter and it's all porn. So I think some people may not care about the sex parts so much, but for the porn lovers out here, this one and I think the next couple of chapters are all gonna be for you. :)

They ate lunch in a rush, the scents of both of their arousals mixing together and filling the kitchen.  Cas couldn’t take his eyes off of Dean.  His mouth opening and then closing around his fork, lips pulling the food off.  It may not have actually been as sensual as it was in Cas’s mind, where it all seemed to happen in slow motion, with every flick of Dean’s tongue and twist of his lips making Cas’s dick throb.

_ Dean Winchester loves me. _

God, he needed to scent Dean.  He needed to smell his…yes!  His omega!  Needed to bury his face in Dean’s flesh and luxuriate in cinnamon and jasmine.  He jammed his fork in his mouth and swallowed almost without chewing.  He looked down at his plate where half a stack of pancakes remained.  He couldn’t do anymore.  He needed to taste something else.  Needed it now.  He looked up at Dean and green eyes met his.  Dean’s eyes were dark and hungry, but he also looked a touch uncertain.  If he didn’t know Dean better he’d have thought it a scared look.  But his fork was abandoned on his own plate and he, too, showed no interest in eating more.

_ He loves me. _

Cas cleared his throat.  “Bedroom?” 

Dean nodded.

They both rose.  Cas tore his eyes away from Dean and moved to the fridge.  He took two bottles of water out and pulled a box of granola bars from the pantry.  He turned back to Dean and handed the items to Dean.  They both stood for a moment and Cas felt they were both lost in the same spell—in a daze from the magic of this perfect moment.  He leaned down and scooped Dean up getting a surprised little “ooph” from Dean, who cradled the food and water to his chest and let his head fall onto Cas’s shoulder.

When he reached the bedroom, Cas set Dean gently down on the edge of the bed and took the water and granola bars and set them on his nightstand.  He looked at Dean sitting on the bed and felt a sudden wash of insecurity.  This moment was too big for him.  He had no idea how to show Dean the depth of his feelings—what an amazing gift it was to him to hear Dean say those words.  He stepped in front of Dean and then knelt on the bed, straddling Dean’s legs.

“Would you…say it again?”  His voice sounded small and shaky in his own ears.

Dean’s mouth turned up in a small smile and Cas thought he saw some tension in Dean’s shoulders relax.  Both his hands came up to Cas’s waist and took hold of his shirt.  Cas’s erection had deflated, but just this small amount of touch from Dean, even through fabric, had it twitching with interest again.

Dean’s tongue slipped out and slid across his lips and Dean pressed them together for a moment.  “Cas,” he said, his voice sounding rough and scratchy, “I love you.”  Then Dean closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Cas’s and Cas closed his eyes, soaking in the feeling of Dean’s full, soft lips on his.  They kissed gently at first, then the kiss slowly deepened and one of Cas’s hands twisted into Dean’s hair, pulling and gripping as much as he could on the short locks.  Eventually Dean was squirming beneath him, trying to rock up against him as the kissed, and he could feel Dean’s hard cock press up against his own.

“Casss,” Dean moaned when Cas slipped his mouth down Dean’s neck and started to suck and lick on the smooth, sensitive flesh.  He felt Dean’s hands tugging at his t-shirt and leaned back, allowing the other man to pull the shirt off.  Dean’s hands pressed forward immediately, running over his chest, touching and pressing the flesh, then sliding around the sides to his back as Cas leaned forward again to lick and nibble at Dean’s neck.

“Too many clothes,” Dean murmured, and Cas couldn’t help but chuckle.  He managed to pull back and then force himself to stand up and back, so both of them could undress.  He reached for his own belt as he watched Dean pull his shirt off and stand to shove down his sweatpants.  Dean was naked on the bed in seconds and Cas shoved his pants down and stepped out of them.  He gazed at the beautiful omega stretched out on his bed, legs slightly spread and bowed out a bit, his cock, half hard, occasionally twitching as it lay in its nest of hair underneath his stomach.  He had so much time between Dean’s legs yesterday, worshipping his shaft, balls and hole, and he still found himself longing for more.  He let his gaze left up Dean’s body, looking at the fading scars littering his torso, watching his chest rising and falling a bit faster than usual.  His small nipples were hard, and Cas’s eyes flicked up to Dean’s as he had a thought.

“Dean, I’d like to try something with you.”

Dean just met his gaze and nodded.  He didn’t ask a single question.  For a moment Cas felt slightly weak under the weight of Dean’s trust in him.  His cock, though, twitched in excitement and filled out the rest of the way.  He stepped to the nightstand, pulled out a set of nipple clamps from the bottom drawer and crawled onto the bed to straddle Dean’s lap again.  He showed them to Dean.

“Have you had nipple clamps applied to you before, Dean?”

Dean nodded.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Dean shrugged.

“Is that a no?”

“I guess they…didn’t really do much for me.”  Cas could hear in Dean’s voice that tone of not wanting to disappoint.

“Well, let’s just see if we can do better.”  He was pretty sure he could.  He was becoming a little more sure of Dean now and suspected the omega just needed a little stronger pressure than the average clamp.  Maybe more than a little.  And either way, now was as good a time as any to find out.  Dean Winchester had told Cas he loved him.  There was nothing he wanted to do more now than show Dean he understood what Dean wanted and he wanted very much to try to give it to him.

He unclipped the weights for now and set them on the nightstand.  He twisted the adjusting mechanisms, setting both clamps at a medium strength, higher than a novice would like, but leaving him plenty of room to increase the pressure.  He squeezed one hand around the flesh surrounding Dean’s right nipple, popping the bud up and using the other hand he fit the clamp around it and closed it securely.  Dean hissed in a breath and flicked his eyes up to Cas in surprise.  Cas smiled and did the same to Dean’s left nipple.  Dean didn’t react audible this time, but his cock was still heavy and hard between Cas’s legs and he was starting to roll and rock his hips a bit underneath Cas.

But Cas was in no hurry to get either one of them off.  So he leaned over and rolled off of Dean to lay along his side on the bed.  Dean was clearly surprised, but rolled slightly to face him.  Cas reached out and took hold of the chain connecting the two nipple clamps and tugged on it gently, keeping his eyes on Dean’s face.  Dean released a slight squeak and his good hand reached out to touch Cas’s hip. 

“Don’t worry, Dean, these clamps get much tighter than this,” Cas said quietly.  He knew his voice revealed how aroused he was—how turned on he was by Dean, by the trust Dean was giving him.  He leaned forward and sucked hard on Dean’s adam’s apple.  He tugged the chain again.  “And I have these weights we can add.”  He slid over on Dean’s neck and bit hard, not breaking the skin, but close.  Then he released the skin and slid his tongue over the toothmarks several times.  He tugged the chain.  This time Dean hissed sharply.  “Or I have some even heavier weights we can try out if these aren’t enough for you.”  He turned his head and leaned down, engulfing Dean’s clamped left nipple in his mouth, flicking it repeatedly with his tongue.  He felt Dean’s body twitch and his own cock throbbed in response.

He pulled back and lay his head on his pillow.  “I think we should talk before we go further.”

Dean didn’t roll his eyes, but he may as well have.

“Please.”

Dean’s eyes met his and he nodded.  “Sure.  Sorry, Cas.”

“We don’t have to cover everything today, Dean.  But if we are going to bring in more S&M play, I do need to make sure we have a couple of basic understandings at least.  Is that okay?”

“Anything you need, Cas.”

He smiled.  “I need you to have safewords.  Do you have a verbal safeword you prefer?”

“Nickelback.”

“Okay.  And if at any time you want to safeword but can’t speak, I would like you to tap me three times in succession.”

“Okay.”

“Do it.”

Dean tapped him thrice on the hip.

“Thank you, Dean.  Will you promise that you will use your safeword if you are uncomfortable with anything I do, it is too painful, or for any other reason you would like to stop?”

Dean smiled at him and nodded.  He was humoring Cas.  But that was fine.  Cas could be extra vigilant on Dean’s behalf for a while.

“Thank you, Dean.  As I said, I don’t want to have a full discussion now, but there are a couple of things I want to make sure you understand, okay?”

“That’s fine, Cas.”

Cas tugged on the chain just to see Dean flinch.  It was gorgeous.

“I want you to know that I do very much long to taste your pain, Dean.  I want to learn what you love the most and how to strike, or whip or burn or cut or mark you just the way you like.”  He pulled on the chain a bit harder and did not release the pull this time.  “I want to watch you come apart and learn just what will make that last perfect searing of pain that will make you explode and come all over me.”  He released the chain and moved his hand down to run a finger lightly over Dean’s leaking cock, just barely tickling it.  “I want to become an expert at making you weep with pain and joy at the same time.”

Dean moaned slightly and his cock pulsed against Cas’s finger.

“I take it you want that, too, Dean?”

Dean nodded.  He was biting on his lower lip.

“But I am not comfortable leaving any marks on you while you are still going back to the doctor for examinations.  And I wanted to get to know you and your reactions better first.  Do you understand?”

“I…I thought you just weren’t into that…with me…because of what happened…”  His green eyes were opened wide and he looked small and defenseless suddenly to Cas.

Cas scooted forward pressed his body up against Dean’s, reveling in every sensation, Dean’s hot cock rubbing up against his own, the cold hard metal of the clamps pressing into his chest, the size and strength of Dean’s body, so powerful for an omega, and still so soft and vulnerable in some ways.  “Oh no, Dean, I am very interested in marking your beautiful flesh if and when you will allow me.  I just think we should hold off until you are fully healed and Dr. Mills isn’t going to have me prosecuted for it.”  He winked at Dean.  “So I know you would prefer a high intensity of pain, but I was hoping that maybe I could start out learning your reactions today a bit?  Perhaps you would permit me to do a little waxplay?”

Dean shivered, then nodded.

Cas almost shivered in response.  God, it was going to be hot to watch Dean tremble and twitch underneath him—to see his skin painted with wax.  To see his green eyes wide with need and desire because of Cas— _ for _ Cas.  He leaned forward and kissed Dean gently, for a long moment.

“Thank you, Dean.  And you promise to use your safeword if you want to stop at any time at all?  Regardless of the reason?”

Dean nodded.

Cas leaned forward and kissed him again.  Held it there an even longer moment.  Then whispered against his lips, “Say it out loud for me, Dean.”

“Yes, I promise.”

Cas let his tongue slide into Dean’s mouth, tasting and exploring at first and then demanding, taking, possessing.  He rolled them over, laying on his back and tugging Dean on top of him to straddle him.  He pressed Dean’s chest up until Dean was sitting upright and then he tugged hard on the chain while still pushing him back with the other hand so he wouldn’t lean forward with the tugging.  Dean let out a loud gasp and rocked down onto Cas.  Cas shifted and pulled his cock out from under Dean, then took hold of both of their cocks with one hand, not jacking them off yet, but just lightly caressing, hoping it would be a contrast to the sharper pain on Dean’s nipples.  After a minute, he stopped and reached over to take up the weights on the nightstand.

“Let’s see if these do anything for you, Dean.”  He reached up and attached first one weight and then the other to the clamps on Dean’s nipples, then let go.  Dean didn’t show any reaction, but he was still rocking a bit in Cas’s lap and his cock was hard enough now that the head was flushed red and stretched.  He ran a finger over it and watched a bead of precum leak out.  He swiped it off and brought it to his lips to taste.  Dean watched every move of his finger and mouth with wide, needy eyes.  “What do you think, Dean?  Do you want bigger weights?”  He flicked both weights with his fingers. 

“Yesss.”

“Yes to bigger ones?  Are you sure?”  He knew he was just easing Dean now, but this little taste of what Dean might be like when they could both just do what they wanted with abandon, with Dean’s attack long behind them, and only the future in front of them, it was filling Castiel with joy and hope and all the excitement of being in love with someone so incredible who also turns out to need and want just the same things you do.  It made him high and he wanted to take Dean as high as he could, too.

“Fuck, yeah, come on, Cas.”  Dean’s voice was low and gruff.  He was more affected than Cas anticipated.

“Okay, well you’re on top, so go over to the closet and get the shoebox off the shelf.  Over on the righthand side.”  He directed Dean, who brought back the shoebox and climbed back on top of Cas as he deposited it on the bed.  Cas opened the lid and reached in, easily finding what he wanted.  He’d had to special order these years ago as he couldn’t find any weights made this heavily.  The nipple clamps Dean was currently wearing were full ring style to vise down in multiple directions to allow them to hold up to the pressure of these weights.  He flicked Dean’s nipples and enjoyed the reaction as Dean ground down onto his lap.  Then he removed the first weights and replaced them one by one with the larger ones.  He let go of both weights suddenly and simultaneously and Dan dropped forward onto his hands on Cas’s chest.  But he didn’t try to drop all the way down to lay on Cas and take the weight off his nipples.  He just closed his eyes and breathed for several moments, and then slowly sat back up and looked at Cas.

Cas looked at the red angry nipples and the black clips around them, at the chain dangling between and the heavy weights draped against Dean’s chest.  Then he looked down at Dean’s cock, laying against his own, just a little smaller, but even harder than Cas was, dripping precum onto Cas’s stomach, twitching once in a while against Cas.  Then he looked up at Dean’s face and the tension written there.  He inhaled deeply and his nose was filled with vanilla and sandalwood.  With Dean’s arousal.  He suddenly realized he was on the verge of coming.  He patted Dean’s leg to get Dean to lift it and moved out from under Dean.  He slid behind Dean and wrapped an around him to take hold of the chain and pull him back against Cas’s chest.  He nibbled and licked at Dean’s neck for a bit, rubbing his cock along the crack of Dean’s ass, making it wet with his precum.  He slipped a hand down between them and felt around Dean’s rim, which was now soaked in slick.  Fuck, he was so hot and wet.  Dean smelled so fucking good and he looked so hot and he was now releasing little whimpers as Cas’s hands moved over his body, that Cas wasn’t sure he could hold his orgasm back long enough to get inside of Dean.  Jesus, his omega was so sexy and perfect. 

Cas slipped two fingers inside Dean easily, he was so slick and aroused, and Cas wondered if Dean would be even needier than this when he got to enjoy some serious pain.  He wondered just how strung out Dean could get—if there was anything that would make this gorgeous strong man beg for release.  Cas started fucking Dean with his fingers and occasionally letting his fingertips brush against Dean’s prostate, but just barely.  He wanted to save most of that for his hard cock.  He twisted his other hand once to get the nipple chain wrapped around it and then he jerked his hand downward in a small quick tug as he kept fingering Dean.  Dean yelped and Cas added a third finger.  He slipped them in and out of Dean just a couple times, wanting Dean to feel the stretch when his alpha cock breached his hole.  He pulled hard on the chain one more time then withdrew his fingers and wrapped that arm around Dean as well, reaching up to glide his wet fingers along Dean’s lips.  Dean opened up his lips and Cas slid them in, letting Dean suck and lick his own slick off of them.  Dean’s tongue was hot velvet and Cas shuddered a bit at the feeling, holding Dean hard against himself for a moment and just enjoying the press of flesh and feel of Dean’s tongue on his fingers.

Then he leaned his head forward over Dean’s shoulder and said, “I was thinking maybe we should tighten these up a bit more…”  He tugged gently on the chain for emphasis and Dean immediately gave  a couple excited little nods of his head.  Cas smiled and pulled his fingers from Dean’s mouth.  With his arms wrapped around Dean he tightened the pressure on his left nipple slowly, moving it up to about two thirds of its maximum.  He watched Dean close his eyes and nod slightly.  So he moved over to adjust the right clamp the same amount.  Then he flicked both weights at the same time and smiled at Dean’s whimper. 

He pulled one hand around and slid it into Dean’s hair, taking as tight a grip as he could and he tugged Dean’s head to the side, giving him wide open access to lick and bit and kiss at the other side of his neck.  He kept the grip in Dean’s hair as he did, knowing Dean liked that sensation, and the licked and sucked for several minutes on Dean’s neck, trying to get himself back down to a manageable level of arousal so that he would last more than one or two pumps when he got inside Dean.  When he felt more in control he pulled back and pressed on Dean’s upper back, getting him to drop down to all fours.  He ran his hands over Dean’s back, feeling the ridges of rough skin where previous people had left their marks on Dean.  He still couldn’t believe this beautiful man was in love with him.  He wondered if he ever would.

He leaned over to get a look at the large weights hanging down from Dean’s nipples and how they pulled his sore, red, angry looking nipples down and out from his chest.  They were showing the abuse now and Cas knew that when the clamps were removed was when the real pain would come.  “How do those weights feel, Dean?  Do you like them there tugging on your nipples like that?  Making you nice and sore?”

“Uh huh,” Dean panted out.

Cas straightened up and put his hands on Dean’s ass, rubbing the cheeks and then pulling them apart to look at Dean’s tight, wet little hole.  He grabbed his cock in one hand and started rubbing the head up and down over Dean’s rim.  “Mmm, I wonder how they’re going to feel when I’m fucking you.  When I’m rocking you back and forth making those weights sway and tug at you back and forth.  Nothing to stop them, just the constant tug and pull.”  He pressed the tip of his cock against Dean’s rim and started to press.  “I wonder if I can fuck you hard enough to make those weights slap against your chest each time I slam in.”  He pushed and the head popped in and he felt that moment of intense tightness of Dean’s hole squeezing right around just below the head of his cock, his shaft still feeling the cool air and his head engulfed in the blazing wet heat of Dean’s body.  He was on the verge of coming again already and he squeezed his eyes shut and held still for several moments, willing himself back.

When he was in control again, he gripped Dean’s hips with both hands and started to push into Dean.  It was tight—he really hadn’t stretched him as much as the other times and Cas was as large and hard as he ever got unless he was in rut and ready to knot.  So it was a little work to push in further even though Dean was wet with slick.  But he pushed in an inch and rocked back out and pushed in a little farther over and over until he was finally buried inside of Dean, feeling Dean’s round ass pressed tight up against his pelvis.  He circled his hips several times enjoying the feeling of being buried inside Dean and of Dean’s smooth velvety hot walls rubbing around him, like they were trying to hug him and hang on and keep him from ever leaving.  After a minute, he started to slide back out and in just in very small amounts, tiny little fucks that just blending into the round circling motion of his hips.  He got glimpses around the side of Dean’s torso of the black nipple weights swinging gently and something about it was beautiful to Cas—like a ballet or a tree in the wind, graceful and perfect.

He was lost in the sensations for a while, and then he realized that Dean was making little whimpering noises as Cas’s cock slid in and out, and Cas lunged forward a bit with need at the knowledge he was pulling those noises out of his tough little omega.  When he did, Dean moaned loudly, and Cas started fucking in and out in earnest, shoving into Dean in hard thrusts and pulling out in long even strokes, listening to Dean’s mix of whines, grunts and moans, as he did.  “You’re so fucking hot, Dean,” he said, increasing his pace, letting himself go now, letting that feeling, that need to cum, just start to building in his balls, focusing on the sensation of friction and pull and push as he slammed in harder and faster and Dean’s body clung to him and clenched around him.  “You’re so perfect for me.”  He reached forward and fisted his hand into Dean’s hair, pulling back on his head and using that for leverage, then he reached his other hand underneath Dean to twist into the nipple chain one more time.  “My omega…my beautiful Dean…so precious…so sexy…so fucking strong…”

He was fucking Dean hard now, knowing that it must hurt Dean to have his head pulled back like that, and hoping it did.  Hoping he felt stabs of pain and discomfort now from his neck and from his nipples and the added sensations of pleasure in his ass and need in his throbbing cock.  Hoping that he was feeling half as overwhelmed with all of it as Cas was.  He was fucking Dean so hard now that he was grunting audibly with each thrust in and knew he must sound like a madman.  “UNH…fuck, Dean…UNH…and you are, aren’t you…UNH…you’re the strongest omega…UNH…stronger than anyone…UNH…so precious, Dean…UNH…fuck, so tight…UNH…oh god, Dean…UNH…I’m gonna cum...UNH…oh fuck…” Dean’s ass was gripping him so tight and he was so hot and then Cas heard it, he heard the sound of the weights slapping into Dean’s chest as he hit home and heard it again and heard it again and heard Dean’s whimpering and panting and then he knew it was over and he was gonna come and he wrenched Dean’s body up with both hands and pulled him to his chest as he slammed in a last time and then he held Dean against his body as he shook and shuddered and came, feeling each hard pulse of almost like an electrical shock running through his cock, not quite painful but overwhelming in intensity.  As his orgasm was finishing, his hands released their grip on Dean’s hair and the nipple chain and wrapped tightly around Dean’s torso and his head dropped into Dean’s shoulder, kissing gently a couple times and then just resting there.  

Only after his legs were starting to shake and his cock had shrunk and was slipping out of Dean did he realize what he’d done.  He slid a hand down Dean’s stomach and found his cock, also flaccid now.  He let his fingers caress a bit and found the head sticky with cum.  He sat back on his feet, pulling Dean onto his lap and he used a hand to turn Dean’s head to face him.  He kissed the red, soft lips and looked into Dean’s tired looking eyes. 

“Did you come, Dean?”

Dean nodded.

“Untouched?”

Dean nodded.

“Holy shit, that’s sexy.”  He kissed Dean, shoving his tongue in the omega’s mouth and enjoying the tired lax, reaction, as Dean barely participated and generally let him take and feel and explore. 

After a minute of that he guided Dean gently to lay on his back on the bed and lay down next to him.

“So Dean, there’s probably going to be a lot of pain when I remove the clamps.  I don’t want to leave them on too much longer, but I don’t really want to waste the removing.  I wonder if you think you can get hard and come for me again this soon.”  As he said the final words, his hand had wandered down and started to gently tickle Dean’s cock.  He was only partially surprised when Dean reacted, his cock twitching and swelling beneath his fingers.  “Mmm, yes, Dean, you’re so doing so good for me.”  He slid his hand between Dean’s leg and gathered some slick and used it to lubricate his hand and then started stroking Dean’s cock with more intent.  “I love your cock, Dean.  You’re big for an omega and you get so hard.  It’s so hot.”  He leaned his head forward and licked very lightly at Dean’s nipple.  “Maybe sometime you’ll fuck me with this cock.”  He heard Dean’s groan and felt his cock jump in his hand and took that as definite interest.  “I haven’t ever done that before.”  He suckled gently at the nipple and started stroking faster.  “I want you to be the first.  The first and only.”  He started to sit up, still jacking Dean’s cock rhythmically, seeing Dean’s balls starting to tighten and pull up as he neared his orgasm.

“Okay, Dean, I need you to help me out.  Put your hand on mine.”  It only took Dean a couple of heartbeats to understand and react and he didn’t question, just reached up his good hand and wrapped it around his own cock on top of Cas’s hand.  Cas gently pulled his hand out from under Dean’s and said, “Now keep stroking, don’t stop.  I want you to do it like you would when you really want to come—no messing around.  Strip your cock for me, Dean.  Let me see you come for me.”  And Dean did, speeding up, faster than Cas had been going.  Cas moved his hands up to the nipple clamp and took hold.  He watched Dean’s had flying up and down his cock and he quickly loosened the right nipple clamp and pulled it off, then in a rush did the other and waited for the blood to hit them and Dean to feel the pain.  About two seconds later, Dean shouted and his upper body jerked up and his hand shook frantically back and forth just below the head of his cock and then he was coming.  Cas bent down and sucked on his nippled, lapping his tongue against the poor pained, stretched thing and Dean shouted again, then said, “Oh fuck, Cassss, fuuuuuuck.”  Then his body dropped back to the mattress and his hand stilled and dropped as well and he let out a quiet little moan.  Cas leaned over to the other nipple and licked it gently for a moment, then let himself drop back down to the mattress next to Dean.


	47. Forty-seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Cas and Dean's bed day; a little sex and some talking and sharing. WARNINGS FOR: Brief description of rape/noncon/sexual abuse.

Dean ran his fingers over the Cyrillic lettering on Cas’s left side.  “What does it mean?”

“It says ‘Shield of God’.  My name is Hebrew and translates roughly to the same thing.”

Dean hummed in response.  “I guess your family was pretty religious, eh?”

“Oh yes, very much so.  Gabriel and I are the black sheep of the family, not just because we both like men, though that doesn’t help.”

“Shield of God,” Dean mused.  “I like it.  And it fits.  You’ve sure been shielding me all this time.  What do the other two mean?”  His fingers were dancing over the complex symbol on Cas’s right shoulder that was a twisted mix of geometric shapes that somehow also flowed and knotted together. 

“That one is a fanciful version of the Tree of Life.  It was my first tattoo.  I got it when I was going through a somewhat rebellious phase.  I can’t say I feel very tied to it anymore—it was more of an act of immaturity on the road to growing up a bit.  I just wanted something to show my rejection of my parents’ institutional religious values.  The infinity symbol is a bit of a regret, to be honest.  Balthazar wanted us to get them.”

Dean tilted his head up where it lay on Cas’s chest to look at his face.  “You guys must have been pretty serious.”

“We were.  Though we shouldn’t have been.  I know now that I didn’t really love him—certainly not enough.  But we were together quite a while and I thought we loved each other, thought we wanted the same things.  And we got along well.”

“Until he cheated on you?”

“Yes.  But I’m glad he did—I worry about what it would have taken me to realize he wasn’t right for me.  I was settling and I wasn’t really even aware I was doing it.”

Dean rested his head again, watching his fingers trail over Cas’s chest, tangle in the hair occasional, trace the muscles.  “I almost got married once.”

He heard Cas’s breath hitch, but the alpha just said, “What happened?”

“I was settling.  And Lisa didn’t deserve that.  She’s really terrific—has this awesome son, Ben.  I loved her, but not the way she loved me.  I loved our family—having people to take care, feeling like what I did every day really mattered.”

“But…?”  He felt Cas’s lips brush the top of his head in a soft kiss.

“But it wasn’t enough.  She was beautiful and into sex and all, but not into…what I really wanted.  I thought I should just get over that.  That sex that really blew my mind and pain and the rest of it was something I wanted, but not something I needed.  That it couldn’t be as important as being a father and a husband, building a life together.  But then I found myself constantly sneaking out, always on the verge of cheating on her.  And she just didn’t deserve that.”

“What about what you deserve?”  He could practically hear the frown on Cas’s face in his voice.

“I don’t know, Cas.  I just didn’t think about it that way.”  He didn’t want to argue with Cas—didn’t want to try to explain that he didn’t even deserve Lisa and Ben, much less something better and even more fulfilling.  He knew Cas would argue, would try to convince him.  And there was no point in either of them trying to convince the other.  Especially if there was a risk of ruining this day that had started out with the best orgasm Dean had ever had. 

Cas hummed gently, as if in agreement with the thoughts in Dean’s head.  “Well, I will try to be the kind of boyfriend  _ I _ think you deserve, then.  But I can’t help hoping you’ll tell me whenever any of your needs aren’t being fulfilled.”

Dean froze.  Was Cas his boyfriend now?  What an idiot,  _ of course _ they were boyfriends.  He waited for the panic to set in, for his body to start itching to jump out of bed and make some excuse to go home to go find his own space for a bit.  And then…nothing happened.  Cas’s hot, naked body was still pressed up against his and it still felt good.   _ Not good—fucking perfect. _  He snuggled in tighter, pressed his lips to Cas’s chest.

“Dean, are you alright?  Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Cas.  I’m fine.  I just…  I’ll try, too.  But I’m not very good at the boyfriend thing.  Just so you’re warned.”

Cas chuckled lightly, making his chest vibrate underneath Dean’s cheek.  “Well, luckily you have other skills to make up for it.”

“Oh yeah?  Would you like to try out any of my skills right now, Cas?” Dean said, rolling over further onto the alpha and leaning up a bit to kiss his jaw.

“Mmm…perhaps.  What have you got in mind?” 

Cas had closed his eyes and tilted his head back to give Dean room to kiss and nuzzle into his neck.  He smelled like a crackling fireplace and his chin and jaw were starting to get rough with stubble.  Dean liked the rough, scratchy feeling against his lips and tongue.  He threw a leg across Cas and straddled him, still suckling and nipping at his neck and jaw.  He reached around and took hold of Cas’s cock, already full and stiff, and ran his thumb over the top, swirling the drip of precum waiting there around the head.  He guided Cas’s dick to his ass and rubbed it against his crack, wetting it with the slick that was already running down his crack again in anticipation of feeling Cas’s thick and hard inside of him.  Cas gasped and Dean leaned up and pressed back, pushing down on Cas’s cock and gasping himself when the head popped past his rim.

_ Fuck, Cas felt good. _  What was it about this man—this dick—that sent sparks up his spine and slick dripping from his channel?  He sat up more so he could press down more easily and he rocked his way onto Cas until he was sitting tight against Cas’s lap and feeling stuffed full.  He closed his eyes and ground down on Cas in little circles, feeling the head of Cas’s cock rolling against him deep inside and the thick shaft shifting and dragging against his insides.   _ Shit, he felt so full right now. _  He opened his eyes and looked down at Cas and smiled.  His head was rocked way back, his neck exposed, eyes closed, a slight grimace of pleasure on his face.  He’d been doing the same thing—focusing on the feeling of being inside Dean.  Dean rocked and ground down onto Cas a little more and watched Cas’s mouth drop partway open and his eyes squeeze more tightly shut for a moment.

He dropped forward onto Cas leaning on his good elbow and started to fuck him slowly in short, gently strokes, nibbling on Cas’s bared neck.  “You like that, Cas?  You like being inside me?”

Cas groaned loudly and his hips bucked up a little just once.  Dean was sure he was trying to hold back—trying to let Dean control this moment, at least for now.  “Yesss, Dean.  Unnnhh.”  He moaned as Dean fucked down onto him and then ground hard into his lap.  Dean gasped as Cas’s cock hit his prostate more directly than he expected and a shudder ran through him as the jolt of pleasure thrummed up and down his body.  Dean resumed his rhythm, riding Cas a little more purposely now, pulling forward and dropping back at a steady pace.  He tried to focus on driving Cas crazy, running his tongue across the sensitive hollow at the bottom of his throat and over his carotid artery, then suddenly sucking hard, pulling the skin there between his teeth and biting down just enough to leave a mark, then tongueing gently at the spot before releasing it and letting his tongue trail along the ridge of Cas’s clavicle. 

But the sensation of Cas’s cock, rubbing along the walls of his ass, was quickly too distracting for him and he let it take over.  He sat up straight again and started lifting up in long, full strokes and dropping down hard onto Cas, riding him faster and harder and just letting his mind drop away all other sensations except that one—Cas’s hot, hard dick shoving up into him, filling him and then pulling its way out as he rose, bumping against his prostate, sending irregular electrical shocks up his spine and down his legs.  He had no idea how long he continued, he just rose and fell, fucking Cas and riding him, letting the feelings take him.  Then he became aware of Cas’s fingers on legs and then of Cas’s breath, which had become a sort of moaning pant, interspersed with occasional higher pitched noises something like a whine.  He opened his eyes and watched Cas, mouth open, eyes closed, panting and whining as Dean road him.  He looked euphoric and so fucking hot that Dean shook for a moment and almost lost his rhythm.  His own cock was hard, bobbing in front of him as he rode Cas and leaking onto Cas’s stomach, but all he wanted now was to make Cas come.  To watch this man, his guardian angel, completely out of control and lost in rapture because of Dean.

He slammed down hard on Cas and clenched down on his cock as he ground into his lap, and Cas let out a loud moan.  Dean rose up and repeated the action, setting up a hard, fast rhythm and making sure to squeeze Cas as hard as he could with each stroke.  Cas’s panting turned into load groans and occasional moans of “Dean” and “Fuck” and other words unintelligible sounds.

Dean tried to avoid hitting his prostate anymore, but somehow Cas’s cock always seemed to find it, and Dean was starting to shake with the need to come.  His balls were tight against his flesh and he was biting his lip to hold back.  He fucking wasn’t going to make it, he was going to come before Cas and he hadn’t even touched his cock.   _ Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck. _  Cas looked so good underneath him—he was groaning and laid out all for Dean and looked completely elated and lost in passion and need and desire.  His skin was shiny with sweat and face was flushed and he looked the exact opposite of the controlled man that had taken Dean apart with such purpose the day before.  Dean slammed down and squeezed Cas’s cock and then it was just over.  Cas felt so fucking huge inside of him and he felt so stuffed and full and the power of Cas’s cock combined with the vulnerability of his face, lost in bliss like this, threw Dean over the edge and he shuddered in place on top of Cas, shaking with his orgasm, shooting out onto Cas’s stomach.

Then he saw Cas’s eyes fly open to meet his gaze and he felt Cas jerk up against him and felt the hot wet pulse of Cas’s come deep in his ass.  Cas’s blue eyes were huge, startled and amazed and so deep and dark that Dean thought of the deepest parts of the ocean.  Cas stared at him and his fingers squeezed Dean’s legs and his cum pulsed into Dean, hot and so fucking perfect.  Dean rocked gently on Cas until both their orgasms had passed and then he slumped down onto Cas, letting his head drop onto Cas’s chest.

*               *               *

Dean hung up the phone and dropped back onto the bed.  He had been animated during the call, but now his spirits seemed downcast.   

“How’s Bobby?” Cas asked, rolling to his side to look at Dean and starting twine his fingers in with those of Dean’s hand that was laying next to him on the bed.

“Oh, he’s fine.  Just wanted to tell me about the carpet the ordered and other stuff for finishing the fixups on the house.  He figures he’ll have it all done next week.”

“Oh.”  And then when Rolston is caught there will be no reason for Dean to stay here any longer.  “That’s…good.”   _ Jesus, Cas, get it together.  Be happy for Dean! _ _ He needs this.  He needs his safe space back and his independence. _

“Yeah.”  Dean was just staring at the ceiling.  “The…uh…the week after next.  It’ll be…I think my…heat will probably be then.”

Cas’s stomach lurched.  His cock throbbed with excitement and he felt a rush of worry and sympathy for Dean.  Would Dean…could he…?   _ Oh god, please, don’t let Dean handle this with someone else.   _ He tried to breathe normally, to smell normal.  His shoulders were already tight with tension as the voice in his head reminded him that Dean’s comfort was what was important.  He could  _ not _ pressure the omega into sharing this with him so early in their relationship.  “Mmm,” he hummed, trying to sound nonchalant and then fearing he sounded uncaring.  “What…how do you usually handle your heat?”  Now he was trying for interested friend and thought instead it came off like a cold scientist.  Fuck.

“I…usually just do it alone.”  Dean closed his eyes.  He smelled like loneliness, and Cas couldn’t keep himself from scooting into Dean’s space, sliding an arm under Dean’s head and letting his fingers slide into Dean’s hair, dropping his other arm onto the omega’s chest and letting his fingers trail over Dean’s jaw.  Dean opened his eyes, turned his head and the pale green of his eyes met Cas’s.  “I don’t…I didn’t used to like the way it makes me feel…not with an alpha around anyway.”

Didn’t.  Was it significant that he stopped himself from saying don’t?  “Have you…ever shared it with someone?”

“Yes, my first few times, I thought…I was told I needed an alpha…that most omegas wouldn’t survive heat without one.  I believed that shit and…”  Dean swallowed, closed his eyes a moment, but opened them again, still looking at Cas.  “It didn’t go well.  I found out that sadist alphas and omega heats don’t go well together.”

Part of him was screaming to defend himself.  He was a sadist and he would never hurt Dean.  Not the way Dean meant.   _ Not about you, Castiel _ , screamed his other half.   _ This is your omega.  Dean.  Take care of him! _  “So…you never shared it with someone…close?”

“Twice with Lisa, but she’s a beta.  She was great about it, but I guess…I don’t know…I wasn’t really…satisfied and she wasn’t really…it was an awful lot of effort and exhaustion for not much payoff for her I think.” 

Dean’s eyes were brightening now.  Cas thought maybe he was a little less uncomfortable.  He knew what he wanted to say, just needed to make sure it came out as close to right as possible.  “Dean, I…it would be a privilege if you would like me to assist you in your heat.  The…idea of supporting you in that way and sharing that with you—”   _ Fuck.  _ His eyes were tearing up and his voice was shaking. _  Deep breaths.  Control.  Calm.  For Dean.  _  “But Dean, I have no expectations.  Whatever you need or want, I will support.”  Dean just stared at him, his eyes the color of a spring forest now.  “I…Dean, if you want to go through this alone or with someone else for support, my home is still your home.  If you need me to leave, I can go next door or even to a hotel and give you space.  You can still be safe here and Charlie or Sam or Bobby can come stay here with you if you like.”  He couldn’t imagine being so close and not being allowed to touch Dean, to soothe Dean, to feel the heat of his skin and inhale his incredible scent.  He thought it might be the hardest thing he’d ever do.  But looking at Dean, he knew he would find a way if that’s what Dean asked.  If he had to have Bobby chain him in Dean’s basement.  Whatever it took.

“Cas?  Are you…”  Dean’s voice was quiet, tentative, like he was soothing a skittish colt.  “You’re shaking, Cas.”  Dean’s hand had come up around his arm and taken a gentle hold of his bicep. 

He  _ was _ shaking.   _ Shit. _  He closed his eyes, took deep breaths, the room smelling of their sex, of Dean, of cinnamon and sandalwood and sweat.  “I apologize, Dean,” he managed, when he opened his eyes again.

“Cas, don’t…it’s fine.  Really.  It’s more than fine.  God, you’re...  You’re like something out of a romance film.  How are you even real?”  He rolled and leaned into Cas, pressing him onto his back and then snuggling tight against his side, resting his head on Cas’s chest.  It was perfect—Cas felt soothed and comforted, wrapping his arm around Dean’s back and letting his hand fall to rest on the back of his neck.  “Have you ever done that with someone before?” 

Dean spoke softly and it took Cas a moment to register what he was asking.  When he did, his stomach fluttered and his throat tightened.  The only way was honesty.  He thought Dean would understand, but the risk of being rejected—being sent away from Dean during that time because of his past—sent shocks of near-panic through him.  “Yes.  But…never with someone special to me.”

He felt Dean’s body tighten and his hand stopped its idle tracing of Cas’s chest.  “So…just casual heatsex, then?”  His voice sounded even quieter, almost buried in Cas’s chest.

“No,” Cas said.  Too emphatically.  But…  “No, not casual.  I…for a few years I acted as a support alpha for omegas in need at the Omega Center.”

“Oh.  That sounds like…it might be kind of…hard for them?  Or weird for you?”

Cas hummed in agreement.  “Sometimes.  Definitely hard for most omegas there—so many were in such fragile emotional places.  But it made it easy to be kind—and helped kill any urge to be possessive.”

“So…you did that a lot?”

“I don’t know if you would say that or not, Dean.  But yes, there were several omegas I shared a heat with there.  Perhaps as many as ten over the years.  A few that I assisted multiple times.”  He had never wished to change that history—had always been proud of having helped people—until now.  If Dean couldn’t accept this—

“So, I guess you’ve gotten pretty good at it, then.”  It was a statement, but also a question.  But what exactly was he supposed to answer?

“I don’t know.  I hope I was helpful.  Do I need references?”   _ Fuck. _  Had he been too flip?

But he could feel Dean’s face move in a smile against his chest.  “Hmm, might be interesting to call them.  You know, if you’re offering.  See what they’ve got to say about the great author Castiel Novak’s heat-support skills.”

Cas felt his own shoulders relax as Dean teased him.  He wasn’t upset.  Maybe he was even intrigued.

After a minute of quiet, Dean spoke again, and the smirking tone was gone—his voice quiet again and a bit hesitant.  “I hate my heats.  But I…I’d like to see if it could be better.  I always complained to Sam and Charlie that I hate the loss of control…being driven by this need and having no way to reign it in.  Charlie always told me I would love it when I was with someone I trusted and desired.  We used to fight to hard about it, and I always told her I would never do it with anyone again—it didn’t matter who it was.  That it wasn’t about trust or love or any of that.  I would go on and on, ranting and raving to her that it was impossible to feel good with all restraint torn away and something inside me betraying me and controlling me.”

Cas let his hand run up into Dean’s hair, not tugging, but holding.  He tilted his head and pressed his lips to the top of Dean’s head, trying to let him know he was listening.  He was there. 

“But I think…I think Charlie was right.  I…had a couple bad experiences.  The worst one…it was with Zachariah.  My first heat while we were together was okay.  I mean, I guess I know now that he kind of took advantage of it a little bit, but I was so out of it I didn’t really care until later.  But it wasn’t anything like super shocking or that different from what we did together normally, so I didn’t really think too much of it.  But my second heat…it’s what really ended things.  He had been wanting for a while to bring other people around when we scened to watch, which was fine.  But then he started wanting to bring them into the scene.  Like for sex.  But I always disagreed.  One time he did it even though I hadn’t agreed and I safeworded out, which he punished me for.  But his punishment was whipping, which was basically like a fucking reward for me.  So I was kind of ecstatic afterward and it never fucking occurred to me I should break it off.  And then my heat came and I stayed over at his.  And suddenly these three guys were there.”

Cas knew he was becoming rigid, but his entire body was like a clenched fist.  He wanted to hurt Zachariah, this older man who had taken advantage of a young, vulnerable Dean.  His stomach was boiling and he could taste bile beginning to edge its way up his throat.  But it was over.  Dean was safe.  And he needed to let Dean talk—to hear whatever Dean wanted him to hear.  So he tried to will himself to relax, inhaled Dean’s scent, which had hints of anger, but no pain, no fear.  Because he was safe and whole and so perfect.

“And I wasn’t even strapped down or anything.  He had just been letting my heat run for two days without helping at all and I was crazy with it.  I couldn’t feel anything anymore but need and desperation.  It must have been completely obvious that I wasn’t in my right mind, but the fuckwads Zachariah hung with didn’t give a shit.  They just took me and used me, knotted me and fucked me again and again, sometimes beating me in between.  One of them knotted my mouth and I couldn’t breath and passed out.  I was sure I was dying but I woke up later and it seemed like a miracle that I was alive.  Until I realized there was a knot in my ass and a guy standing over me jacking off waiting for his turn.”

Cas felt like he was in the hospital again, watching Dean be interviewed by Benny.  Going through his little mantra to himself.   _ Calm calm calm safe safe safe soothing good alpha strong protective safe… _

“I was like, 22, I think, and it had never occurred to me how dangerous it was to be in that position.  So I never let another alpha near me in my heat and only let Lisa after three years of being together.”

“That’s more than understandable, Dean,” Cas said.  Good job, Castiel.  Understatement of the year.  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you suffered such abuse, especially during your heat.”

“Yeah.  I…”  Dean tilted his head back a bit, looking up at Cas.  Cas looked down at him and leaned forward to press a soft, careful kiss to his forehead.  “The truth is…I…I really want us to do it together.  But I’m…”

“Scared?”

Dean shrugged.  “I guess.”

“Well, I’m not an omega.  And I haven’t been through what you have.  But I’m pretty sure I would be terrified.”

One end of Dean’s mouth rose in a small half-smile.  “I can’t really picture you terrified of anything.”

Cas laughed, and it made him feel better.  “Mmhmm.  Anything except you being mad at me which turns me into a frightened wreck.”  He squeezed Dean tight to him.  He knew what Dean wanted to hear now.  And it was the same thing he wanted to say.  “Dean, I would be overjoyed and grateful for the chance to share your heat with you.  If you’re not ready yet this time, then any time in the future I would be just as ecstatic.  And yes, I do have a bit of experience working through a heat with omegas who have had bad experiences.  And we joked before, but if you would like to talk to one of those omegas, I really can see about putting you in touch with one or two of them.  But whatever you want to do this time, I will make sure you are in a safe place, with someone to help and to protect you and with anything else you need.”

As he spoke, Dean’s eyes had filled with tears, and they spilled over now and Cas couldn’t take it anymore.  He pulled Dean up to him and kissed him gently on the mouth, pressing their lips together and trying to put into that gesture all of the care and devotion he felt for this astounding man.

When they broke the kiss, Dean was looking at him with wide eyes and a tear-streaked face.  He murmured, “Thanks, Cas,” and then kissed Cas again, deepening the kiss and tonguing into Cas’s mouth and starting to rock and grind gently against Cas’s leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am uncertain if I've lost some people because of too much sex, so if anyone wants to let me know I'd love to know if there is too much sex or you're perfectly happy with some porn chapters. (I mean, I'd appreciate it if you'd word it reasonably kindly.) The plot will definitely pick back up in a few chapters, but it would be good to know whether people are here only for the plot, only for the porn, or for both! (I guess it's obvious I'm a "both" kind of girl.)


	48. Forty-eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny and Cas talk; Cas and Dean talk.

BANG! BANG! BANG!  Cas and Dean startled when someone suddenly hammered on the front door.  They could hear yelling as well but couldn’t make it out.

“Go in the bathroom and lock the door,” Cas blurted as he jumped off of Dean and grabbed pants from the floor, stepping into them at the same time he stumbled from the room.

Dean froze on the bed for several moments until the next series of bangs on the door, then he was up and grabbing his sweatpants, but froze again staring at the door Cas had gone through.  He wanted to follow, but feared he would just be in the way if something was really wrong.  The scent of slick and sex and sweat still clung all over him and even an alpha who wasn’t already a threat might become one if he came too close in this condition.   _Fuck_.  But what if Cas was in danger?  He was strong and obviously knew how to take care of himself, but Dean still felt an intense pull to be near Cas and do his best to protect him.   _Protect him from what, Winchester?  No murderer is going to knock on the door._

He heard Cas reach the bottom of the stairs and he shook himself a bit, and followed Cas’s instructions—going into the bathroom, locking the door and pulling on the sweatpants.  Then he pressed his ear to the door and tried to listen for any clue to what was going on.

There were two low male voices, talking loudly, maybe yelling, one clearly Cas’s low gravelly rumble.  But he couldn’t make out the words.  They rose and fell for a few minutes, then were quiet.  He heard the front door shut, then thought he could hear the voices heading to the kitchen.  He was about to open the door to the bathroom when he heard steps on the stairs again.  Then Cas’s voice was on the other side of the door, quietly saying, “It’s okay, Dean, you can open the door.”

He did and was startled when Cas immediately pulled him in to a tight embrace, squeezing him close for several seconds.  “I’m sorry, Dean, I…I just needed…”  He trailed off.  When he pulled back, he said, “It’s Benny.  He doesn’t seem well.  I’m going to talk to him for a while and I was…do you mind staying up here?”  His brows were furrowed and it was clear he wasn’t going to insist if Dean refused.  But what would be wrong with Benny?  And yah, he was an alpha, but he must have strong control to have his job and he had never reacted inappropriately to Dean or made him uncomfortable.  He wasn’t any risk to Dean, so what was Cas worried about?  But it was a simple request and one Dean had no good reason for refusing.  If Benny didn’t need to talk to him, why would he need to see the detective either?  He nodded, and Cas pulled him in again for a brief hug.  Then released him and said, “Thank you, Dean,” with that sincere stare and voice of his, and Dean was instantly glad he had agreed.

*               *               *

Castiel slid his phone across the table to him, and Benny took it, feeling sheepish and ashamed, but his heart still beating fast with the remnants of his anxiety.

Castiel poured a cup of coffee and set the mug down in front of him.  “You’re drunk.”

“You’re fucking Dean.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is if you’re taking advantage of a vulnerable omega.”  He regretted it the second the words were out of his mouth.

Castiel didn’t flinch, though.  “You know that’s not what’s going on here.”

He looked down at the table.  Stared at the mug of black coffee.  Fuck.  He picked it up and took a sip.  Stale.  But hot.  “I heard Dean scream.”

“Yes.”  Castiel’s body language didn’t change at all.  He was hostile, but sitting upright, hands on the table.  He hadn’t closed off at the near accusation.

Benny sighed.  He looked into Castiel’s eyes.  “I can’t find him.  We’ve done everything.  I’m out of ideas and I…”

Castiel leaned forward onto the table.  His focus was intense and his blue eyes almost looked like they were flaring in the semi-dark room.  “Tell me.”

“I’m sure he’s going to come after Dean again.  And I don’t know how to stop him.  They won’t give me the resources to keep a watch on Dean 24/7.  But I can’t find Alastair.  He’s out there somewhere and he’s watching you and he’s watching Dean.  Maybe himself, maybe someone else.  But somehow he’s watching.  And there is going to be a moment some time when Dean is vulnerable.”  He took a breath.  He shouldn’t have said any of that.   _Jesus Christ._

“Alastair?”

“Uh…oh, um, that’s Rolston’s…”

“A name for sadism play in clubs or with strangers.”

Benny nodded.

“Alastair,” Cas murmured to himself.  “Defender of mankind.”  He looked back at Benny again.  “So you’re watching us yourself.”  Yeah.  Novak wasn’t dumb.

He looked at his coffee, took another drink.  Looked back up at Castiel, who was still leaning over the table, intent on Benny.  “Yes.”

Castiel sat back again.  He looked Benny up and down.  “Forgive me for saying so, Detective, but you’re not doing us any good in this condition.  If Alastair had been here do you really think you could have subdued him and protected Dean?”

“Fuck right, I could!” Benny shouted.  “ _Nothing_ is gonna stop me from catching this son of a bitch.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed.  “Nothing except yourself.  You’re a mess.  You’re not helping Dean like this.  And he is counting on you, _Detective_.”  He said the word ‘detective’ with a sneer and blatant sarcasm that lit Benny’s blood on fire.  “You may not have a clue right now, but even if I handed one to you, you would just trip on your own feet trying to follow it up.  You smell, you haven’t showered, you look like you haven’t slept in a week.  You can barely keep your eyes open and your hands are shaking so bad it looks like you’re going to shatter that mug any second.  You need to resign this case and hand it over to someone who can keep their shit together.”

Benny slammed to his feet and the chair he’d been on flew back and tipped over hitting the floor with a loud bang.  But Benny didn’t notice.  He slammed a fist to the table, and yelled at Novak, “Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that?  You don’t know shit about what we do day in and day out and the horrible things I’ve seen and had to do.”  He leaned on both hands on the table now, bringing his face within inches of Castiel’s.  He quieted his voice from a yell to cold steel.  “Yeah, I drink.  You would too if you knew what I know.  But no whiskey bottle and no two-bit paperback author is gonna stop me from catching this fuckhead and putting him behind bars.  If you let my appearance lead you to believe I’m not capable of destroying both you and Alastair if I need to, then you’re gonna have a hell of a shock coming to you.”

Castiel didn’t flinch at any of Benny’s rant, but he did lean back in his chair again when Benny stopped.  Then he stood up and walked over to a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Tylenol and a bottle of water from the fridge, set them both in front of Benny and sat back down.

“Do I need to move?  Get Dean away from here?”  Castiel’s voice was quiet, deadly serious.

“No.  I don’t know how he’s watching you—I haven’t seen anything—but we know he is.  So likely he’d just follow you and you’d be in another jurisdiction.  Have to get another whole police department up to speed.”  He didn’t say that they wouldn’t care as much as he did.  Wouldn’t be as good.  Would leave Dean vulnerable and unprotected.  He thought he didn’t have to.

“So all I can do is sit here and wait.”  And that time Benny heard it.  The crack in Castiel Novak’s tough, strong façade.  He was terrified and strung out, too.  Just like Benny.  Yeah, he wasn’t drinking.  But he did have Dean present at all times to keep him on the straight and narrow, give him something to do and something to focus on.  Without that, what condition would Castiel be in?  When Dean went back to work and he had to surrender Dean’s protection to some uninvested co-worker alphas?  Benny prayed they would find Alastair before that happened.

“I’ve done a little research on you,” Benny said.  “It appears you used to teach self defense techniques to omegas at a local recovery facility.”

Castiel’s surprise showed on his face, but all he said was, “Yes.”

“But I haven’t been able to learn how you came by those skills.”

Castiel smiled then, but it was a sort of tight, closed smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  “From my family.”

Benny nodded.  “Mmm.  Novak…is that…Czech?”

“Yes.  Am I being investigated, Detective?”

“Oh shit no, fuck, that’s not…”  Benny stopped, controlled his reactions.  He really did need to sober up if he was so easily startled into a stammering reaction.  “I was just curious and concerned for Dean’s safety.  There is no formal investigation.  But I…I couldn’t help hoping that what I found meant that you might have some useful training that would let me feel Dean was…in good hands.”

Castiel nodded slightly.  “Yes, my father and most of my uncles and generations before them worked for the Russian mafia.  I don’t and never have.  And my family background presents no danger to Dean, I assure you.  But yes, it does mean that…I can hold my own in a fight.”

Benny actually felt his own muscle tension easing at Castiel’s words.  Maybe he could sleep a little tonight, just to get back on track a bit.  Though he still needed a drink badly and the bottles in his car were all empty.  “Good.  Just make sure you don’t take protection too far.  If he does show up you need to call us—this guy needs to face trial not just for Dean, but for the other victims, too.”

“And I think you need to go now, Detective,” Castiel said, though it didn’t sound like a refusal of Benny’s instructions.  And he was right.

“Yeah, okay.”  He stood, picked up his phone and pocketed it.  “Be safe.”

*               *               *

Castiel felt better.  He was back in bed with Dean and had given Dean a somewhat watered down version of his talk with Benny.  He wasn’t sure if it met the spirit of his promise to Dean about total honesty, but he couldn’t bring himself to let Dean know just how strung out the detective in charge of his case was.  So he’d given a brief, sketchy version and then focused on getting Dean to eat a granola bar and drink some water.  And now they were laying in bed in their now usual snuggling position, Cas on his back and Dean on one side, half on top of him and half on the bed, head on Castiel’s shoulder and tucked into his neck.  Cas had a hand buried in Dean’s short hair the other hand resting on the knee of Dean’s leg that was thrown over his lap.

“So…Cas?”

“Mmm?”

“This morning…you said that you…I mean…”  His voice trailed off.  He wasn’t looking at Cas, his head buried in the alpha’s neck, and he sounded as uncertain as Cas had ever heard him.

“What is it, Dean?  You can ask me anything.”  He tightened his fingers in Dean’s hair, tugging slightly and Dean pressed up into a bit.  Cas’s cock twitched a bit in reaction—it was so fucking sex how much Dean loved to have his hair pulled, his head controlled and directed in that manner.  Dean didn’t see himself as submissive, and in so many ways he wasn’t, but the alpha side of Castiel burned with fiery need whenever Dean showed how much he loved Cas’s hand gripping his head, controlling him and grounding him.

“The…the pain thing.  I wanted to ask…I thought what happened to me would make it too much for you to ever…do that…with me.  You know, because I know you care about me, and maybe you could never stand to see me…like that again.  But this morning….  I just…I don’t want to pressure you, but…”

Cas smiled.  Tentative, uncertain Dean was so sweet and charming.  He loved the strong, tough, masculine side of Dean, but this vulnerable side, admitting to something he wanted, desired….  It was another kind of strength and power.  And Cas was completely under its spell.

“Dean, wanting something and sharing that desire with me…that isn’t pressure and there is nothing I want more than to understand your needs and desires.  So…I take it that you definitely would like us to integrate more painplay into our sex life?”

“Umm…yeah.”

  
“I would like that, too, Dean.  Very much.”  He felt Dean relax a bit against him and press his body tight against Cas’s side.  “You understand my reservations about anything that causes physical damage right now, right?”

“Yeah.  I get it.  I don’t want to have to explain to Dr. Mills why I have new scars on top of the other ones, either.”

“Okay, so once your cast is off and we don’t expect you will be making regular doctor visits for a while, we can explore thinks that might leave bruises, burns or scars.  But until then, I want to keep everything below that threshold.”

“Yeah.  That’s cool.”

“And Dean,” he pulled back to the side a bit, wanting to see Dean’s face, and Dean obliged, pulling his head back so they could meet eyes.  “I have to tell you—I don’t think I’ll ever be a partner who wants to hurt you every time we have sex.  I hope that is something we can work through, but I need other experiences as well.  I need times to just focus on the sensations, whether the moment is rushed and urgent or slow and luxurious, either way, but just us—just our bodies and scents and skin and…”  He stopped.  Wasn’t sure if he had said it well enough.

But Dean was grinning.  “Fuck yeah, Cas.  I’m on board.  Straight up sex with you is fucking amazing.  I was just…well, I kind of thought you would never be willing to…you know, do any rough stuff with me…and so I guess I’m kind of excited about the idea.  Even though I know it won’t be today or anything.”

A kind of electrical feeling was tingling throughout Cas’s shoulders and chest.  He thought it started when Dean called sex with him ‘fucking amazing’.  He rolled toward Dean, pressing him onto his back and leaning over him.  He wanted to make the green in his eyes darken and disappear with lust.  “Oh, don’t underestimate what we can do with non-scarring painplay, Dean.  Have you forgotten that you agreed to let me decorate you with wax today?”  He felt a thrill of satisfaction when Dean’s eyes grew wider as he spoke and he felt a slight shiver run through Dean’s body.

“No.”

“Are you ready?”

Dean nodded frantically and Cas chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who answered my question about the plot/smut ratio thing. I so appreciate all the input and it is just so great to hear from all of you and know you're out there, too, and mostly pretty satisfied with how it's going. I think I originally thought this story would be like 75% smut and 25% plot and it turned out to be the reverse, like right from the very beginning, which left me a little out of sorts when it finally was time for lots of smut. Like wondering if it still belonged. I think it definitely does and feel so reassured that most people who responded also think it fits and makes sense still even though the story ended up being so much more than just that. 
> 
> Anyhoo, time for the plot to pick back up now. Thinking I will still go ahead and publish the waxplay scene I did as the next chapter, but other than that we'll be back with the main plot again.
> 
> I appreciate you guys intensely--thanks again for reading and sticking with me (especially when this story has ended up being about 5 times longer than expected so far).


	49. Forty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waxplay sexy times.

  
“Can you stay still while we do this?”

Dean raised an eyebrow.  “Are you kidding?”

Cas smiled.  “It may be more intense than you anticipate.  And if you move too much, I won’t be able to hit the precise spots I would like.  But I’m…reluctant to restrain you this soon after what you’ve been through.”

Dean was about to retort—to assert that he could stay still as a stone by pure will if he wanted even under the toughest beating, and contrarily that no tying up or handcuffing would scare Dean Winchester—when he realized how incredibly ridiculous he sounded, even in his own head.  He almost laughed at himself for being so—so fucking _Dean_.  Then he looked at Cas, sitting there, with every pore of his being just screaming of sincerity and desire and empathy.  Cas so clearly wanted to make Dean feel good—was about to pour all of his energy into getting Dean off and after what he’d done earlier that morning—Dean was ready to put aside his skepticism about Cas’s methods.  So he pressed his own hand down gently on top of Cas’s and he closed his eyes.  He imagined trying to lay still on his own, pressing his hands to the headboard as Cas scattered hot wax on his chest, and he felt his body twitch and squirm in anticipation.  Then he imagined Cas placing handcuffs on him and stretching his arms up to the headboard.  He imagined the wax falling and tugging against the handcuffs and he opened his eyes.

“I…I want…”   _Fuck._  Why couldn’t he say this out loud?  It was just Cas.  His Cas.

“Yes, Dean?”  Cas’s eyes were soft and his voice was low and rough.  He sounded aroused already—as if Dean saying just the word ‘want’ sent heat to his groin.

“I don’t want to have to stay still on my own.”   _Shit._  He had never asked someone to tie him up before.  He hated it.  But it was the truth.  He couldn’t wait to feel what Cas was going to do to him with those candles and he wanted to just relax and be and not have to worry about anything else.

“Okay,” Cas said.  He still sounded cautious.  “So would you feel comfortable with me restraining you?”

Good.  Yes or no questions.  Tension Dean hadn’t even noticed in his shoulders eased a little.  “Yes.”

Cas smiled and Dean knew he had heard the relief in Dean’s voice.  “Would you prefer handcuffs, or binding?”

“Binding?”   _Ugh._  He cringed at the weak sound in his own voice.

But Cas smiled again.  “That sounds perfect.”  He squeezed Dean’s hand briefly, then stood and disappeared in the closet for a minute.  After some rummaging, he returned, carrying several silky ties.

“Would you be alright with being blindfolded?”

“Fuck yeah.”   _Yes yes yes._  Dean wanted that.  He wanted not to have to think about anything.  Wanted to let Cas do his thing—to feel whatever Cas could make him feel.  He felt like an instrument being handed over to a master class level musician.  He was already slightly lightheaded just with the anticipation.  Dean.  Dean who had become bored with the most sought-after sadists on SpankBank and didn’t even waste his time with anything less severe than a cane anymore.  Cas had him half-hard with just the thought of a fucking blindfold and a candle.

Cas laughed out loud this time and knelt on the bed beside Dean, sliding a tie over his eyes and under his head and tying it securely toward the back on one side.  Dean felt Cas lift off the bed.

“I want to start with your back.”  A few seconds passed.   _Oh._  Dean turned over to lay on his stomach and stretched out his arms and legs.

Cas pressed down on his shoulders, so he scooted down the bed a bit until Cas’s hands pulled away.  Then he felt Cas’s cool, precise fingers wrapping the silky cloth around his wrist and tugging his arm up extending it toward the corner of the bed and tying the other end of the tie around the bedpost.  Cas moved around the bed, tying his casted arm in a strange arrangement that ran around his shoulder and then through his fingers and somehow put no pressure on his wrist or arm, and then tying both ankles as well.

He heard Cas’s voice from the doorway say, “I have one more thing to get from downstairs.  I will be back within three minutes, Dean.  Call out if you need anything.”  And then Cas’s footsteps walking away.

Dean tugged on the ties and found he had very little room to move at all, and instead of feeling panicked he felt…safe, as if he were secured in a cocoon.  He let his body relax into the bed and inhaled deeply of Cas and the two of them.  Peppermint and cotton candy and pine trees and sex.  The mix blurred and twisted in Dean’s nose and in his mind it all ended up as security and desire and comfort and home and love.  He tried to tug his legs against the bindings and they barely moved.  He wiggled and squirmed against the mattress and found he could rock a bit, but could get no up and down movement, and no satisfying friction on his cock that was already seeking relief.  But he clearly wasn’t going to get it until Cas decided to allow it.  Though he knew Cas would release him the second he asked.  He melted a little more into the mattress and inhaled deeply again.  Fuck, but he loved that smell.  He buried his nose in and let himself drift.

Then he heard a rattling noise next to him and Cas setting something down on the nightstand.  Moments later, the bed shifted as Cas moved on and straddled his thighs.  He felt the bed depress on either side of his chest and then Cas’s breath was against his ear, saying, “Do you promise to use your safeword right away if you don’t like anything that happens?”  His voice was husky and his breath was hot and Dean’s cock throbbed in response.

“Yes.”

“And your safeword is?”

“Nickelback.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said and wrapped his lips around Dean’s earlobe, licking wetly with his tongue and sucking momentarily before releasing it and sitting back upright.

“I have a variety of melting temperature candles here, so some of these will be simply warm and others will burn.  None of these should result in second degree or worse burns, but even these, if used in the right circumstance on the right spot, can generate substantial pain.  I would prefer not to tell you what is coming, but if you prefer I can describe each step in advance as we go.”

Dean had drifted slightly as Cas spoke, lost in the pleasure of his stretched out body sinking into the mattress, Cas’s weight on his legs and that low, gravelly voice risking and falling above him.  But he got the gist and after only a few moments of silence understood that he was being asked a question.  “No, please…”

“No description?  You’re comfortable with the surprise?”

“Yeah.”  Dean was relieved.  Cas understood.

“Thank you, Dean.”  Cas ran his hands up Dean’s back from his buttocks up to his shoulders and back down, pressing down into the muscles as he went and eliciting a groan from Dean.

Then it started.  He felt Cas lean toward the nightstand and one of Cas’s hands run lightly over his back and then a few drops of wax hit his shoulder blades.  It was a slight sharp pain, followed by a softer burning sort of tingle.  Strong enough to be pleasurable, but fading to nothing after about thirty seconds.  Cas’s hand continued running gently over his back, in and out of the wax spots and more wax fell, slightly further down his back, then across his lower back.  Then the drops were more random, here and there in unpredictable fashion.  And it was good.  Dean drifted and floated, letting the sensations take him.  Sharp tang of the initial wax drop and then the following burning tingle.  Over and over, gentle and exciting at the same time.  His cock was half-hard the entire time, but he wasn’t squirming or writhing with need yet.  Just happily horny—okay with Cas taking his time.

Then the wax hit his ass and it was hotter.  He was sure.  Though he hadn’t felt Cas lean over to switch candles.  The pain was a bit sharper, the drops seemed a bit bigger and Cas decorated both of his ass cheeks with wax and ran his fingers in and around the burning, tingling spots.  And now Dean’s cock was harder and he did want friction.  He tried to rock back and forth into the mattress, to get some up and down strokes of friction against the sheets, but the straps on his legs and arms wouldn’t let him move that way.  He rocked a bit side to side but it did nothing to provide any relief.

Then he felt Cas lean over and sit back again and then both Cas’s hands were running over his back and ass, touch and squeezing and he could feel some of the wax crack and peel away, and cold air hit some of the spots where wax had been.  It was a strange feeling, both like a new sort of slight pain and also a bit of relief at the same time.  Then Cas suddenly scraped his fingernails, both hands, down Dean’s back from the top of his shoulders all the way down his ass to his thighs.  He scratched hard, taking wax with him as he went and scratching right through the burned bits of Dean’s back and ass.  Dean hissed with pain and his cock pulsed and throbbed.   _Holy fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.  Yes.  More._

“Mmm…do you like that, Dean?”

“Oh fuck,” Dean murmured, “uh huh.  Yeah, Cas.  ‘S good.”

Cas brought his fingers back up to Dean’s shoulders and let Dean wait a moment.   _Come on_ , Dean urged in his own mind.   _Please, Cas.  Fuck.  I want._

Then Cas’s fingernails were striping down his back again, hitting more spots of the wax, some of the same spots, and the mix of pain and pleasure made Dean want to laugh and cry.

Then suddenly Cas’s body shifted, scooting further down the bed and Cas’s hands grabbed Dean’s ass and spread his cheeks and Cas’s tongue was stuffed in Dean’s hole and it was wet and hot and Cas’s face was so rough and scratchy against Dean’s sensitive skin.  Cas pulled back and rumbled something about how delicious Dean tasted, and Dean realized he had been leaking slick.  It was running down his balls.  Then Cas dove back in and started tongue-fucking Dean and suckling and licking at his rim and occasionally rubbing his roughened stubbly chin along Dean’s crack.  When Cas stopped, Dean realized he had been moaning and panting and that his cock was leaking onto his stomach and the bed.  Jesus fuck, but Cas was good at that.

Then Cas leaned over to the nightstand again and sat back.  Dean felt one of Cas’s hands spread his ass cheeks and he had just a moment to realize Cas was going to fucking drip wax on his rim and flinch with anticipation, and then there was a sudden shock and something like pain but not and then he realized it wasn’t hot wax it was ice—freezing cold ice, pressed tight up against his rim and now Cas was even sliding it inside him and he tried to squirm away, to press into the mattress but Cas was relentless and it wasn’t pain really but it still hurt so fucking much.  Then what was left of the narrow ice cube was inside him and it was melting and Dean thought he could actually feel the water dripping further inside him as it melted and then Cas leaned over and Dean thought he couldn’t take more ice like this and he was about to beg Cas not to and then he felt it.  Pain.  Real pain.  Sharp and huge and awful and wonderful.  It wasn’t a drip, it was a pour of much hotter wax, at least it seemed hotter, from the top of his crack down the entire thing and over his rim and down just to the top of his balls.  It felt like tons of wax, like his crack had been poured full of it and now the entire thing was burning with that after-sizzle and the tingle spread out Dean panted, waiting for his breath to return after the shock of it had taken it away.

They were still then for a minute, Cas using one hand still to spread Dean’s ass and Dean just drifting into the mattress, feeling the burn, his cock throbbing and leaking and his body trembling.

“Dean, are you alright?”

“Yesss.  Fuck yess, Cas.”

“You are doing so good, Dean.  You are so perfect.  You can’t believe how beautiful you look.”

Dean buried his face in the mattress and inhaled.  Christmas and carnivals.  His ass burned and he was so fucking turned on.  He wanted Cas’s cock inside of him.  Or in his mouth.  But he didn’t want Cas to stop doing this yet.

Cas leaned over again and then there was ice running along his crack, over and next to the wax and Cas was using it to loosen the wax and pulling the wax away.  And there was that cool/pain mix of the air hitting the mistreated skin and then Cas’s mouth was there, gentling licking and lathing the skin and caressing and soothing everywhere he went.  Then finally Cas leaned up to his ear and said, “I want to work on your front side now, Dean.  Is that okay?”

Dean nodded and he felt Cas get up and start untying the ties from the bedposts.  He helped Dean take a drink of water and turn over and then retied the ties one by one.  When he felt Cas straddle him again, Dean was less relaxed this time and starting to feel the need for release.  His cock had been hard for a while now and the thrill of more pain coming had him leaking and now he had no hope of getting any friction for his poor needy dick.  He was entirely at Cas’s mercy and he almost shrieked when he felt Cas’s fingers run gently along his shaft and then swirl at his slit, picking up some of his precum.  He heard the quiet suckling noise that meant Cas was licking Dean’s cum off his own fingers and Dean moaned in response.

Then Cas leaned over and almost immediately he was dripping wax on Dean’s chest.  Instead of individual drips, he ran what felt like thin lines and swirls all across Dean’s chest from one side to the other.  Then he leaned back and said “Perfect.”  Dean almost laughed at Cas admiring his own work, but he was so aroused and in enough pain that he felt a bit short-circuited and his throat seemed disconnected from his internal reaction.  Then Cas was dripping more wax across his mid chest and the pain seared and then burned and Dean realized he was whining out loud now with every run of the candle, making noises like whimpers and moans mixed together with murmured words like “Fuck” and “Yes” and “Cas”.

And Cas didn’t stop, he ran the thin swirly lines over Dean’s stomach, and some of the spots there had sensitive new skin that hurt so badly that Dean screamed a little in response, and his cock was bobbing up and down now with his need to get some attention for it.  He wanted to come so bad.  He wanted to make Cas come.  He wanted to taste Cas.  To feel Cas coming down the back of his throat.  To feel Cas’s hand wrapped around his cock.  More wax fell and he dripped slick onto the bed.  More wax fell and his cock bobbed and leaked some more.  More wax fell and he screamed Cas’s name.

Then he felt Cas leaning over again, but this time it was above him to reach for the ties at the bedposts and then back and then his limbs were all released and Cas was pulling off the blindfold and urging him to stand and then they were standing before the mirror on Cas’s dresser and the wax lines were clearing as Dean blinked and adjusted to the light and then he saw that Cas had written words with wax on his chest.  PRECIOUS.  PERFECT.  And covering up most of the scratches on his stomach were STRONG and BRAVE.  And where ‘Worthless’ had appeared he had replaced ‘less’ with ‘Y’ so it read WORTHY.

Dean’s legs started trembling and Cas quickly led him back to the bed.  And Dean needed Cas so badly he thought he would shake apart if he couldn’t come soon and if he couldn’t see Cas come.  As he dropped back to the bed, he grabbed hold of Cas’s ass and pulled him around, tugging and urging until Cas’s huge alpha cock was hovering in front of his face.  He licked his lips and looked up at Cas who was looking down at him with that expression like Dean had somehow blown Cas’s world apart even though it was Cas who had just done all of this to take Dean apart and then to put him back together.  To make Dean feel fucking _worthy_.  Fuck, but he needed to feel that hard, stiff shaft filling his mouth and throat.  He looked up at Cas through his eyelashes and tugged again at Cas’s ass and Cas allowed himself to be pulled forward and let the swollen head of his cock slip between Dean’s parted lips.

As Dean wrapped his lips around the head of Cas’s cock and swirled his tongue into the slit, Cas moaned “Unnnhhh…Dean…”  Dean smiled and suck hard at the head, swirling his tongue around it and then starting to pull Cas further forward, luxuriating in the feeling of Cas’s silky shaft sliding past his lips and filling his mouth.  Cas stared at him with wide eyes and Dean sucked hard, hollowing out his cheeks, and caressing the underside of Cas’s dick with his tongue.

“Dean, so good for me…” Cas murmured.  He was starting to rock his hips gently and Dean let him, just sucking and using his tongue and allowing Cas to guide things (now that he was doing what Dean wanted).  He let his hands drop to Cas’s thighs and kept his eyes on Cas’s face, watching the alpha slowly giving into his own need.  Cas started rocking in and out of Dean’s mouth in longer strokes, fucking into him in earnest now, still slow, but shoving in further, hitting Dean’s throat with each shove.  Dean sucked and swirled his tongue and mentally willed Cas to fuck him harder, to shove into his throat.  He wanted to see his angel lose control—to be powerless with need for Dean—to give in and take and use and enjoy.  He sucked hard and looked up at Cas and he knew he must look fucking hot with his lips stretched around Cas’s big cock, as it pulled out and shoved back in.  Cas felt so amazing—his skin was so smooth and the shaft underneath it was so solid and hard and big and Dean was no small omega but he felt small with the huge alpha cock in his mouth and the power of Cas above him.  He realized he was moaning now as Cas slid in and out and squirming a bit underneath the alpha with his own excitement and need.

Cas started murmuring and moving faster, shoving a bit more roughly into Dean’s mouth, and saying, “You’re so beautiful, Dean…so perfect…my precious omega…so strong…so brave…taking everything so good…love how good you are for me, Dean…oh god, your lips, Dean…oh fuck, your mouth is so hot…”

And then Cas shoved in hard enough and the head of his cock shoved past that spot in the back of Dean’s mouth and was deep in his throat and Dean couldn’t breath and it felt so amazing and perfect and then Cas pulled back and Dean sucked in a breath and Cas shoved in again and then he was fucking Dean’s throat in earnest and Dean hummed with pleasure and Cas threw back his head and groaned, and his babbling picked up even more but he was fucking hard into Dean, so he was panting and praising Dean in between and Dean closed his eyes and let the smell of Cas and that hard cock slamming into his throat and that low voice run over him…  “Perfect…Dean…hot…love…fuck…yessss…Dean…so good…wet…need…you…fuuuuuuuck!”  And then Cas slammed in hard and stopped and Dean felt Cas spasming in his mouth and throat and the come sliding down the back of his throat and he felt so perfect—useful, and important, and sexy, and satisfied.  Almost.

But Cas knew.  Cas knew exactly what he needed.  Only moments after Cas stopped shaking he pulled out of Dean’s mouth and dropped his own mouth down onto Dean’s leaking cock, and wrapped a hand around Dean’s shaft and then he was using his hand, jacking Dean hard and fast and suckling on the head and within seconds Dean felt his orgasm rip through him and his body convulsed and he shook apart and came into Cas’s mouth as Cas stroked him through it with a sure, confident hand.

*               *               *

That night, when Cas woke to pee, he came back to the bed to find Dean awake and looking at him.  He smiled and crawled back in bed, pulling Dean close again and enjoying the way Dean snuggled in close to his side and buried his head in Cas’s neck, inhaling deeply.  He could feel Dean’s muscles relax a bit as he scented Cas and he knew his own scent must be filled with notes of proud Alpha.  But he _was_ proud.  He was so proud of Dean—this perfect, precious man, who had overcome so much even long before he was attacked by Alastair.  And this special omega found comfort in Castiel.  His chest swelled with the pride of it.  But Dean still seemed tense and uncomfortable and he wasn’t falling asleep as he usually did.  And then he thought he smelled a bit of vinegar coming from Dean and he tensed with concern.

“Dean, are you okay?  Do you need something?” he asked quietly, knowing it was still difficult for Dean to ask for…well, almost anything.

Dean shook his head into Cas’s neck, and Cas wasn’t sure if that meant he wasn’t okay or he didn’t need anything.

“Do you want to talk?”

“I…when Bobby has my house fixed up next week…”

 _Oh._  Cas’s stomach clenched.  “Yes?”   _Whatever Dean wants._  If Dean wanted to go back home—they could find a way to protect him.   _Whatever Dean wants._  But how would he sleep?  Could Dean sleep okay in a bed without Cas?  Could Cas sleep without Dean.  It didn’t matter.   _Whatever Dean wants._

“I don’t…I don’t want to go back there.”

Cas’s stomach relaxed and something in him screamed with joy.  He closed his eyes and squeezed Dean tight.  He pressed a kiss to Dean’s head.  “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Of course okay.  Whatever you want, Dean.”  He couldn’t stop kissing Dean’s head.  Then Dean pulled out from his neck and looked up at Cas.

“What do _you_ want, Cas?”

“You.”

Dean’s brow furrowed.  “But…me…how?”

“I want you to stay with me forever and never leave.”  He held his breath.  Prayed it wasn’t too much.  But honesty had always worked best with Dean.

“Oh.  Really?”

Cas laughed.  How could Dean not already have known that?  “Yes, Dean.  Really.  But I would never pressure you.  Whatever you want and need we will find a way to work out and still keep you safe.”

“Cas, I don’t…it isn’t just because of my house and…the attack.  And it isn’t just because I need your protection.  In fact, it isn’t those things at all.  I don’t…I want this.  Us.  In bed.  And when we talk.  And when we watch movies.  And when we cook dinner.  And…all of it.  I don’t want to be without you.  Even if he gets caught.”

And then Cas couldn’t help it anymore.  He felt tears fall from his eyes and he pulled Dean in tight and kissed him and their mouths were like one amazing partnership—exploring and sharing and tasting and enjoying, and Dean was going to stay, and when they broke the kiss, they buried their faces in each other’s necks and their arms were holding tight and they were wrapped up in their joint scents and in each other and Cas felt Dean’s tears hit his shoulder, too, and he murmured into Dean’s neck, “Yes please, Dean, please stay with me.  I love you.”


	50. Fifty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 50! That's crazy! 
> 
> Benny continues to watch Cas and Dean; Charlie has some info; Ruby gets a call.

Benny watched Dean walk into his counselor’s office and Cas pull out of the parking lot in Dean’s Impala.  He had an hour to kill, so he called the station to check in, but of course there was nothing new to report on Alastair, and as far as he was concerned his other cases could hang out in the backseat for however long it took to catch this prick.  He’d actually gotten some sleep the night before, but Castiel Novak and Gordon Walker and everyone else who told him he needed to dry out could eat shit.  Because being sober this morning didn’t make one fucking bit of difference.  He’d poured over the same stack of paper again and there weren’t any new insights waiting there.  And apparently no one on the entire force or any other state law enforcement agency could manage to spot the psycho, so he was still left with nothing to do but follow Dean around and hope he could spot Alastair or whoever he had watching Dean that way.  But just as the entire week had gone—he seemed to be the only one stalking the omega.

He reached over to take up the whiskey bottle, but it was empty.  He looked at his watch.  Plenty of time before Dean was done and Castiel was back to pick him up.  He got out, locked the car and walked down the three blocks to the liquor store.

*               *               *

“Hey, Charlie.”  Cas had just come out of the grocery store and was putting the bags in the trunk.

“Good morning, Angel!  How’s my boy?”

_ Perfect. _  “He’s well.  How are you doing?”

“Five by five, Cas!  So get this, I’ve got some good stuff on the Freakshow, I think.  I followed a long trail of investments, and let me tell you, he had it hidden pretty well ‘cuz he set up a series of LLC’s which in our state don’t require ownership registration with the state, so you never know who the heck is really involved, but there are recorded documents and I may have hacked my way into a couple law firm networks—oh man, I just love how their IT teams think they have shit protected when they’re just using the same old firewalls from like two fracking years ago, it’s seriously insane how all these rich clients and also just so many nice regular trusting people have all their most confidential information at risk from people like, well, me, I guess, because their own paid law firms can’t be trusted to take internet security seriously enough.  I mean, actually, Cas, you should think about that and maybe have me look into whoever you work with both on your money and your legal crap—oooh, and your publisher’s security maybe for your creative works because shit you’d be screwed if  the next volume got out before publishing time—anyway, I could totally check them out for you and let you know if you’ve got some risk there, because it’s more likely than you think and I know you want to be safe, especially now that you’re taking care of Dean.  Oh, I mean, not that Dean gives a crap about money or anything—I mean, you know that.  But…what was I saying?”

“Rolston?”

“Oh yah, so I tracked down these investments of his and some are just like, you know, the freaky kind of sex clubs and I may have possibly gone to them to just check it out and make sure there aren’t any hidden rooms or dungeons or something where he could be torturing someone or planning to torture our green-eyed grease monkey, but they all looked pretty legit.  He’s probably just investing ‘cuz he actually likes it and maybe for some special rights to always be first in line for private rooms or introductions to people or whatever.  But nothing scary that I could see.  I mean, unless you find that kind of thing scary generally, which obviously some people would.”

“Charlie…”  Cas looked at his watch.  He needed to pick Dean up in ten minutes.  He put the phone on speaker and started the car.

“Yah, sorry.  Okay, but this one company he had signed over to his niece like a year ago, but she died earlier this year and so title went back to him and get this, Cas!  Dean knew this chick!  Okay, so I don’t know if I should tell you all the creepy little details, but let’s just say that he cut her off and she was super upset about it.  So I don’t know, it’s probably crazy to think that’s why her uncle set off after Dean, it’s probably something else and that’s just a coincidence, I don’t know, but it still seems like a pretty freaky coincidence to me, but anyway, this company of his or hers or whatever, it looks like it’s just a shell to own this random creepy house out in the woods, right?  So, I mean, that’s suspicious, right?  It’s not rental property and they’re not doing anything with it all, like it has no other trail on the internet whatsoever, and like the nearest neighbors to it are like miles away, I mean way weirder than you and Dean having those two little houses in the middle of BFE where you are.  This is like seriously out in the woods.  Like horror movie creepy shit.  Or, I mean if it were owned by someone who we did not think tortured and abused our own special muscle car aficionado, then maybe it wouldn’t be creepy and instead it would be like a romantic getaway.  But it is Rolston and his weirdo niece.”

Cas pulled into Crowley’s parking lot and put it in park, sliding over to the passenger seat.

“Oh and man, Cas, this guy is so much more freaky than you even think.  Well, I don’t know, maybe Dean talked to you about some shit and so you know more than I did, but this guy is a sadist like super hardcore.  This isn’t like fun sex stuff.  This is like seriously enjoy utterly destroying people kind of crap.  So I mean, hopefully even if this isn’t the guy that attacked Dean or killed those other people the police will still find something on him and put him away because I am telling you that he definitely needs to never be allowed out in regular society.”

Cas was momentarily startled when Charlie broke off and didn’t continue, so it took him a minute to find the trail and ask a question.  “So did you send the property information you found to the PI.”

“Well, yah, I mean, no, but yah, I’m about to, so that’s why I was calling you.  I wanted to let you know.  And I thought maybe I should send it to that detective, too, so maybe you could give me his info?”

“Detective Lafitte.  Of course, I’ll message you his full contact info when we get off the phone.”

“Excellent!  And don’t worry, Cas, I’m not done yet.  I’ve run through all my first round ideas, but I still have some more rabbit trails I can follow and I’m hoping to maybe hack into some surveillance cameras once I know for sure where he was at a certain time, and then maybe find some more recent visual on him and figure out where he’s hiding currently.  We’re gonna get this monster, Cas.  I promise you.”

And Cas did feel surprisingly better.  Charlie had actually found something—something that to his knowledge neither his PI nor the police had found.  Maybe she could even find Alastair himself, as Cas had started to think of him ever since Benny’s visit the day before.  “Thank you, Charlie.” 

“You bet.  Just don’t lose sight of the ball at your end, Angel.  You keep our sparkling ray of snarky sunshine safe.  Hopefully it won’t be for much longer.”

“I will.”

“I know.  Be good and give Dean a squeeze and a punch in the arm for me.”

She hung up, and Cas texted his contact info for Benny to her.  Just as he finished, Dean opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.  Cas felt a little tight thrill in his shoulders when Dean leaned over to kiss him on the lips quickly before reaching for his seatbelt.  He seemed to be in a good mood, especially for having just finished counseling, which usually seemed to set him on edge for at least a few hours after. 

“So, Blue Eyes, what are we doing now?”

“Lunch?  Maybe gyros at the greek place?”

“Sounds good.”  Dean put the car in gear and started off.

“Then I thought maybe we could go to the park.  We could read…or…I know a really secluded spot in that state park we went to a couple weeks ago.”

Dean looked over to him with a smirk on his face.  “Secluded, eh?  Are you thinking something dirty, Mr. Novak?”

“Only if you are, Mr. Winchester.”

“Well I definitely am now.”

*               *               *

Benny watched Dean and Castiel eating their lunch on the Greek restaurant’s patio.  He had of course seen Cas’s admiration for Dean from the moment he saw the alpha, anxious and pale, at Dean’s bedside at the hospital.  But seeing them together now, the picture was much different then he had realized.  The other times he had seen them together, Dean had seemed appreciative of Cas and maybe a little protective of the alpha, but nothing more.  It had been weeks since then, though, and the two of them had been spending every moment together since then.  And it suddenly looked to Benny like everything had changed.  It was as if he wasn’t watching the same couple at all—Dean moved easily and no longer had crutches or showed any signs of injury, other than the cast on his wrist that he appeared to ignore as he used that arm readily enough to eat and drink.  And his entire demeanor had changed—he wasn’t closed off and hostile, as he had been at the hostile, and he wasn’t coolly protected by an emotional wall as he had been when Benny’d interviewed him at Castiel’s house.  He was smiling, laughing, flirting with Cas and the waitress, and he appeared genuinely happy and at ease.  He openly showed his affection for Castiel, kissing him several times at the table, once quite lasciviously, and occasionally rubbing his leg under the table, apparently unconsciously.

Castiel, of course, was still enraptured by the omega.  He gazed adoringly at Dean, particularly when Dean’s eyes were not on him, and he nodded thoughtfully whenever Dean seemed to be explaining anything to the alpha.  But Castiel, too, seemed changed—appeared more comfortable around Dean.  He laughed occasionally, and also freely touched Dean, often reaching out to take hold of the back of Dean’s neck when his arm rested on the back of Dean’s chair.  Whenever he did this, Dean’s eyes would close for a moment and he would lean back into the hand.

As Benny watched, they paid their bill and Cas stood to leave, saying something to Dean.  Dean said something back that caused Castiel to fake clutching at his chest playfully.  Benny had never imagined Castiel as capably of this kind of silliness, but its naturalness was clear even from this far away.  Dean said something back and made a slight gesture, then as Castiel turned to walk down the sidewalk toward their car, Dean took a couple running steps and jumped onto Castiel’s back, piggy back style.  Cas made a show of trying to shake the omega off, even as his arms reached back to secure Dean’s legs around his waist.

Benny was looking at two people in love.  Or at least falling in love.  And the sight of it ripped into his chest completely unexpectedly.  All he could see as he watched was disaster.  Alastair hurting Dean, killing Dean.  Castiel destroyed—weeping and wasted, spending his life as a hermit, lost forever in the pit of despair of losing his great love.  Benny tipped his bottle to his lips and gulped voraciously.  He couldn’t let that happen.  Saving Dean, getting justice for the victims, he had been dedicated before.  But now—this scene—what he’d seen—it was so special and important that it  _ had _ to be protected.  Alastair could not be permitted to destroy these men—this wonderful world they were building together.  He started his car and pulled out, following the Impala.

*               *               *

Ruby looked at her phone and felt a sickening quake in her gut when she was her uncle’s name.  “Hi, Uncle Chris.”  She hoped she sounded like the exact opposite of how she was feeling.

“Ruby, my dear.”  His voice slithered out of the phone and burrowed into her ear.  She wanted to squirm away from it.  “How are you?”  He said it with the false tone of a bored, rich housewife barely feigning interest in her neighbor’s life.

“Good.  Kind of busy, but good.  What’s up?”

“Now, now, my sweet, you’re never too busy for your Uncle Christopher, are you?” 

She shivered.  “No, of course not.  That’s not what…”

“Excellent.  Because your time has come, my dear.  Are you ready to play your part?  To help me make Meg’s dreams a reality?” 

Ruby cringed and slid down the wall she’d been leaning against, dropping to the floor.  She was all alone.  She’d tried to reach that police detective and he’d blown her off.  She didn’t know who to turn to.  No one would protect her from Uncle Chris if she betrayed him.  The only police officer she’d thought might take her safety seriously and really try to protect her was Lafitte, but he must not have believed her or thought she was worth the effort.  So she was all alone and her uncle was going to use her and then still might kill her even if she did help him.

She’d thought about just leaving.  Heading out of town and trying to settle somewhere and start a new life in some random American or Canadian city.  But she was sure that he would just come after her and find her eventually.  Maybe he would finish whatever sick “project” he was working on first—finish making whoever he was obsessed with already pay for whatever offense they had apparently given to Meg.  But sooner or later, he would be done with that, and he would only have her to blame for Meg’s suicide.  And he would make sure she paid for it.

“What…what do you want me to do?”


	51. Fifty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several phone calls and a variety of plans being made by Cas, Dean and Benny for the next day; plus a little teaser for the next chapter's sex scene.

“Is this Dean?”  It was a young woman’s voice.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Dean!  I’m Anna, Castiel’s sister.  He doesn’t know I’m calling you—it’s for a surprise.  If he’s with you—don’t say anything to him—um, just…”

Dean laughed.  He wasn’t surprised Cas’s sister sounded so sweet.  “Don’t worry, we have a few minutes.  We’re together but we’re at a restaurant and he’s gone to the bathroom.”

“Oh, great!  So, hi, sorry to take you by surprise like this.  I’ve only heard a bit about you from my brother, and I’m assuming there’s a lot more to tell about you than I have heard since I never seem to hear from Castiel or see him at all anymore.  It’s nice to hear your voice.”

“Nice to hear yours, too.  And yeah, I guess I have been keeping Cas pretty busy lately.  I’m really sorry about that.  I hope we get to meet soon.”

“Well, my surprise would solve that—you know Castiel has this fan event tomorrow, right?”

“Mmhmm.  He’s already nervous about it.”

“That’s my brother,” Anna said, her voice sounding amused.  “Well the president of his fan club called me and is doing some kind of special presentation to him of a gift from a bunch of fans, and she wants to surprise him with someone special showing up to present it.  She wanted me, but I was thinking it would be even better if it was you _and_ me.  I didn’t mention you to her yet, but if you’re willing I know they would be thrilled and I have a feeling there is no one Castiel would rather see there than you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.  He pretty much sees me every day.”

“Dean,” she said, and her voice was a cute mix of flirty and scolding, “you’re not going to play coy with me now, are you?  I may not have gotten to hear too much about you directly from Castiel yet, but that very fact makes it obvious things are getting pretty serious.  I know my brother, and I know he will be so touched if you are there to surprise him.”

“Well, yeah, um, I guess I can do that.  Um…Cas is coming back, so maybe I can call you later tonight to figure out the details?”

“That sounds great, Dean!  Oh, I’m so excited!  Remember—don’t say anything and just call me back on this number.”

“Okay, will do.”  He hung up just as Cas was getting to the table.

“Who was that?”

“Just Sam checking in again—he’s getting on his flight to the states.”

Cas reached out and grasped Dean’s hand.  “You must be so thrilled to be seeing him tomorrow.”

Dean nodded.  His mind conjured Sam’s face, but he’d been gone so long it had this vague remembered quality to it.  How long was his hair now?  Were there a couple more lines on his disgustingly chiseled face now?  “Yeah.  It’s pretty great.”  Dean looked down at their clasped hands and then up into Cas’s freakishly blue eyes.  “I’m glad you’re gonna get to meet him, too.”

“I’m honored, Dean,” Cas said with that sincere focused stare of his, and then leaned in for a kiss.  Dean soaked up the affection in that soft press of lips and then deepened the kiss until they were both starting to breath heavy.

Cas pulled back and said, “This may not be appropriate here.”

“Well, then I guess we should take it somewhere else,” Dean offered, releasing Cas’s hand and running his own up Cas’s thigh under the table.

Cas’s eyes widened.  “A day and a half of nonstop sex, and you’re still ready for more?”

Dean moved his hand up to cup Cas’s crotch and squeezed gently.  “Are you saying you’re not?”

“Hmm…” Cas tilted his head and appeared to consider the question.  “I suppose I could be convinced.”

Two could play at that game.  Dean released Cas and moved to stand.  “Oh, no, no need for that.  If you’re not interested I’m sure we can find some other way to pass the time.”  He strode toward the door and felt the delicious heat of Cas’s eyes on him.

When he got to the car, Cas was suddenly there, pulling him around and moving into his space, pressing him back against Baby.  “You’re quite the siren, aren’t you, Dean?” Cas growled into Dean’s ear, his hot breath sending a slight shudder down Dean’s spine.

“Casss,” Dean moaned, his cock swelling in his pants.  He wrapped his good arm around Cas’s waist and grabbed his ass, pulling him tight up against Dean so he could grind against the alpha.  Cas was getting hard, too, and Dean wanted to taste him again.  It was a little crazy, he thought, how hungry he was for Cas after their afternoon romp in the park, and the sex marathon the day before.  “I want you,” he murmured into Cas’s neck, following it up with a soft bite and run of nibbling kisses along Cas’s neck and jaw.

Cas moaned and pressed his groin hard up against Dean, squeezing his hand tightly in Dean’s hair at the back of his head.  Fuck, that felt so good!  “Get in the car, Dean.  Take me home.”  Cas pulled back and opened the door, and Dean slipped in behind the wheel, noticing as he turned the ignition that he was almost panting with desire already.  He took a couple deep breaths as Cas got in, and then fastened his seatbelt.

By the time they got home, they were both calmer again.  Dean parked the car and led Cas into the house, thinking about when he could find the time to call Anna back.  “Are you all set for your event tomorrow?”

“Well, I should check my email and I should look over my notes a bit.  I don’t know why they want to listen to me talk after reading all my books.”  He sounded earnestly confused by the whole thing, which Dean found endlessly adorable.

“It’s not like a whole speech, though, right?”

“No, thank God!  I’ll just tell them some things about the new book and then take questions.  I guess I may as well get that out of the way, then we can relax for the night.  Are you going to call Charlie and see if she’ll come over while I’m gone?"

“Cas, I really don’t need a babysitter.  We have the alarm system and I’m not completely helpless, you know.”

Cas looked up at him and Dean instantly felt bad for bringing back up the debate they had already been through.  Cas’s eyes looked nearly panicked, and his voice broke a bit when he said, “Dean, I know you don’t like it, but—”

“It’s fine, Cas.  I’m sorry.  I agreed and I meant it.  I’ll call Charlie now.”  The immediate and apparent relief on Cas’s face reminded Dean why he had agreed.  If it made this much difference to Cas he could certainly live with hanging out with his best friend for a few hours.  And maybe she could come to Cas’s event with him and Anna.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, his voice heavy with genuine gratitude.  He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean, burying his face in Dean’s neck and inhaling deeply.  Then a moment later, he stepped back and headed for his office, so Dean moved to the stairs.

Once in his room Dean shut the door and called Anna first.

“Dean!” She sounded pleased and almost surprised to hear from him.

“Hey.  So um…where do you want me to be and when?”

“Oh, I’ll come pick you up.  Do you know when Castiel is leaving?”

“He told me he was supposed to be there at 11, so I figured he’d be leaving around 10:30 probably.”

“Alright, well, I’ll come get you at 11 then, that should be safe.  We just need to make sure we’re there by around noon.”

“Okay.  Um…what should I wear?”

“Oh…uh,” she was quiet for a minute.  “It’s completely casual, so I’m sure jeans or whatever you usually wear is fine.”

“Cool.”  Dean was relieved.  He didn’t want to have to sneak over to his house to try to track down something dressier.  Not to mention be uncomfortable all day.  “And I…I don’t really know a lot about Cas’s books yet.  So I won’t…no one will expect me to talk about them, will they?”

She laughed then.  “Definitely not.  So I’ll see you in the morning then?”

“Yep, see you tomorrow.”

They hung up and Dean dialed Charlie.

“Dean-o!  How are you?”

“Not bad.  I heard you found some dirt on Benny’s suspect.”

“Yep.  I hope they get something from it.  But I’m still working some things, so if not this time then eventually.  No one can hide from The Magic Fingers of Charlie!”

“Ew. Gross.”

“Very funny, Dean.  So what’s up?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Well, I actually have a date, so if you want you can wish me luck!”

“Oh really, someone new?"

"Yep.  Met her at a tabletop meetup last week, and we’re doing a zoo-science center fun-fest.  Why?  What did you have going on?”

“Definitely nothing as good as that.  Cas just wants me to get a babysitter while he’s gone at a fan thing tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah!  I was totally planning to go to that until Stephanie called.  I s’pose I could postpone if you guys need me to.”

“No way, Charlie!  Go on your date.  I’m sure I can find someone else.”

“You could just go to Cas’s event with him.”

“Well, actually, I guess I kind of am.  Originally, I convinced him to go to it by promising to have you or someone come stay with me, ‘cuz I really didn’t want to go.  I don’t think either one of us is ready to have to answer a bunch of questions about our relationship or whatever, and I just…all those people…it’s just a lot, you know?  But then last night his sister called me and we’re going to surprise him by presenting some fan gift to him together there.  And I haven’t met her yet, but Cas totally adores her, so how could I say no?  But it’s supposed to be a surprise and so now I really don’t want to ruin that.  So I’m gonna stick with the plan and find someone so Cas’ll feel all secure and happy when he leaves the house in the morning.”

“Oh that sounds so cool.  I’m kind of bummed I’m gonna miss it.  Including people grilling you about your relationship with Cas!”  She gave an imitation wicked witch laugh.  “This girl better be worth it!”

Dean chuckled then.  “I hope so, Red.  You guys have fun and call me on Sunday to tell me all about it.”

“Deal.  Bye, Dean.”

“Bye.”

Dean watched the call end and contemplated who to call next.  He couldn’t ask Bobby or Ellen to come all that way just for that, and Bobby would be busy picking up Sam and driving him down to Cas’s anyway.  He’d been pretty bad about talking to his co-workers and other friends ever since the attack, but he knew one person who would understand the situation without much explanation.  And apparently he was keeping an eye on Dean as it was anyway.  So he may as well just do it from close-up.

The phone rang several times and Dean thought it was going to go to voicemail when Benny finally picked up.  “Dean?  Is everything okay?”  The phone had that hollow sound and Dean wondered if he was sitting outside their house somewhere right now.

“We’re fine, Benny.  I just…was kind of wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Um…okay.  What do you need?”  Benny sounded tired.

“Well, Cas has to go to this thing tomorrow during the day and he won’t leave the house if I’m all alone, and I thought I could get my friend Charlie to do it, but she’s busy.  I only need someone for like half an hour or so because then Cas’s sister is going to come pick me up and take me to the event anyway to surprise him.”

“That’s no problem.  What time?”

“Say like 10:15 or 10:20?  Cas is supposed to leave around 10:30 I think.”

“Sure.  I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Benny.  I know this is kind of below your pay grade and beyond the call of duty and all that.”

“I don’t mind.  I agree with Castiel.  You shouldn’t be alone until we catch this guy.”  His voice sounded strange.  Rough and thick.  Like he was exhausted.  Or drunk.

“Uh, right.  Okay.  Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Goodnight, Brother.”  It had been a long time since Benny had called Dean that and it made Dean feel a little better about the call that had otherwise felt strangely stiff and...just odd.

“Goodnight.”  He hung up and sat a couple minutes in satisfaction.  He hoped Anna and the fanclub girl were right and Cas would enjoy the surprise.  He wondered what it was going to be and what the event would involve.  He hadn’t asked Cas a lot of questions about it before, but he didn’t want to make a bad impression on Anna.  Or Cas’s fans, for that matter.  So jeans would be fine, but maybe he’d wear that dark green button down and see if he could make Cas a little hot and horny while he sat through all of his fans’ adoring chatter.

*               *               *

Benny set his phone on the passenger seat and picked up his bottle, taking a swig and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  He was parked off the street at the end of a driveway across the street from Dean’s house that led to nothing.  The home, apparently had never been built, and the trees were still thick on the lot, obscuring his car from the street a bit.  But he could see the lights in the windows at Castiel’s house, and watched as the second story light clicked off.  Dean’s room.

A couple minutes later, the living room light came on low, and then the flickering of the TV showed through the front window.

He thought about calling Walker to check on the status of the warrant for the remote property of Alastair’s that they’d received the anonymous notice about earlier that day.  But he knew they were working on it, so he expected by the time he was done with Dean in the morning he’d be able to head out there to meet the team and supervise the search.  He had a feeling the tip had come from Castiel’s PI, or someone else Castiel had wrangled into helping with the case.  But he wasn’t going to complain.  The information had all checked out, according to Walker, and he could only hope and pray this would be where either Alastair, or the evidence they needed, would be found.  Or both.

He took another gulp and leaned back in his seat, keeping his eyes on the lit windows in Castiel’s house.

*               *               *

Dean ran his fingers around the base of Cas’s cock, pressing the flesh gently and playing with the skin where his knot would grow when he was in rut or Dean was in heat.  Or both.  He wondered how big it got.  How it would feel tugging and shoving past his rim.  How it would feel swelling inside him and pressing on his prostate.  How much more Cas would come.  He squeezed gently and Cas gasped lightly.

Dean hated his heat.  He hated rutting alphas.  And he’d always hated knots.  It was the only sexual pain he didn’t welcome.  But ever since he’d realized his heat was coming soon, he’d found himself wondering what it would be like to have heatsex with Cas.  He knew better than to think it was all chocolate and roses.  Even Cas would lose control, just as Dean would.  They would both be driven to just use and take and fuck without thought for the other’s pleasure.  But something about that didn’t sound so bad.  In fact, Dean was fascinated with the idea of an out-of-control Castiel.  Some part of him wanted to see his alpha—his perfectly controlled, cool, and oh-so-careful Cas—driven to a crazed sexual frenzy.  By _Dean_.  By his scent.  His body.  His mouth and hands and ass.  He wondered how hard Cas could fuck into him when he wasn’t worried about Dean—about injuring Dean or triggering flashbacks.  When he could think of nothing at all, but just feel the lust and fire burning inside.  He wondered if Cas would be able to keep up with his heat—could get hard and stay hard and come often enough, long enough, hard enough, to sate Dean’s endless need.  He wondered if his heat would trigger Cas’s rut or not.  They were old enough that it would take a special pheromone or emotional connection for that.  But Dean thought maybe what they had was special.  It felt to Dean unlike anything he’d ever known.  Or ever expected to feel.  Already.  And it was still so new.  What would it be like in a year?

*               *               *

Dean squeezed hard around the base of his cock and it slipped over into pain, and Cas couldn’t help groaning out loud.  Dean immediately relaxed his hand and looked up at Cas with an apologetic expression.  Cas smiled.  It was fine.  There was something utterly charming about Dean getting lost and spacey as he played with Cas’s cock.  He would be happy to let Dean touch and explore and do as he wanted with Cas’s body for days, even if it never lead to fucking.

Dean’s hand was moving now, rubbing up Cas’s chest and stopping at his nipples a bit to pinch and twist.  Cas was not particularly sensitive there and Dean quickly moved on, ending up sprawled on top of Cas and pressing his mouth to Cas’s neck, which practically sang under the treatment.  Dean’s mouth was so perfect—hot and wet, sometimes sloppy, sometimes precise, but always inducing those little electrical tingles that spun and shot in all directions through Cas’s body from the point of contact with Dean’s mouth.  When Dean big down with his teeth rather hard in one spot, Cas’s pelvis thrust up and ground up against Dean’s and he moaned loudly.

“Fuck me, Cas,” Dean murmured into his neck and Cas moaned again.


	52. Fifty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More sexy times.

“Fuck me, Cas,” Dean murmured into his neck and Cas moaned again.  He squeezed his hand hard in Dean’s hair and jerked Dean’s head back, loving the little whimper Dean let out when he did and the way Dean’s eyes darkened with lust.  He tugged Dean’s mouth back down to his own and kissed him, sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth.  The kiss was raw, like a primitive language, the power passing back and forth between them in turns.  Cas explored and demanded and then submitted when Dean’s tongue shoved into his mouth.  He tasted and teased.  He bit and nibbled at Dean’s tongue and lips.  He ran his tongue along Dean’s teeth as if he could memorize the individual shape and contours of each one.  Dean pulled back and rested his forehead on Cas’s, panting into Cas’s mouth, sharing breath, and Cas felt his pride swelling at how aroused and needy he had made Dean.

He suddenly growled and threw his weight to the side, rolling them over and climbing atop Dean.  He grabbed Dean’s hand in one hand and pinned it to the mattress and snuck his other hand back under Dean’s neck again and tugged his head back to bare his neck.  The expanse of smooth skin was tantalizing.  He wanted to tear through it with his teeth; he wanted to suck raw, red marks all over it; he wanted to lathe it with tender kisses and gentle licks and see how long it would take to drive Dean crazy if he went as slow as he could—if he played Dean like molasses instead of fire.  He looked up at Dean’s wide eyes, the pupils huge and dark, the green a light sparkle around the edges, and he thought he might actually get the time to find out.  Adoration and lust were bursting in his chest in equal shares and underneath it Cas recognized something new swelling there—something he had been pushing back and down and ignoring for the last month.  It was hope—hope for the future—for a future together with Dean.  He knew he couldn’t stamp it down any longer.  As foolish as it may be, he was hoping.  Hoping that he would get the chance to learn all those things about Dean.  Just how he responded to each and every thing Cas could imagine to do to his body.  Just what he liked the most and what he liked that he didn’t even realize he would enjoy.

Cas bent down and licked a gentle stripe along the hollow of Dean’s neck, below his jaw and above his adam’s apple.  When Dean made a soft sort of whine as he got close to one ear, Cas closed his mouth over the spot and sucked hard on the skin, pulling it between his teeth.  Dean squirmed below him and the whine came again, a little louder.  After a while, Cas pulled back and slid his mouth up to Dean’s ear, taking the entire ear in his mouth and licking his tongue gently around the outer edge, breathing gently into Dean’s ear.  Dean’s squirming increased and his hand tried to pull away from where Cas was holding it pinned to the mattress, but Cas held tightly, squeezing the back of Dean’s neck a bit with his hand as if in command.

“Fuck, Cas…” Dean whispered, “unnhh…”

Cas pulled back and released Dean’s head, allowing it to drop back down.  Dean stared at him with wide eyes.  Cas pressed his lips to Dean’s and this time it was just a soft, slow press of the lips that Cas meant to signify how precious Dean was to him.  He released Dean’s hand and neck and reached to the nightstand for the bottle of lube, then scooted down Dean’s body to slot himself between Dean’s legs.  Dean’s eyes remained locked to him as he moved and he saw Dean’s hands shift and slide down his own torso to rest on his stomach.  He’d noticed this in the last two weeks since Dean had let him see the scars—Dean was trying not to hide from Cas, but he still hated these marks.  Cas was sure Dean still saw some truth in those words and couldn’t fully ignore his instinct to hide them.  Cas looked up at Dean, his face resting just above Dean’s hard, leaking cock.  He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dean’s stomach, nosing Dean’s hands out of the way as he went, moving across Dean’s skin and worshiping these bits of Dean.  The pink skin looked like growth to Cas—like healing.  And he was sure that Dean was slowly healing inside as well, though it would take much longer than it had taken his body.

He looked up to see Dean staring down at him, his eyes still wide and dark and bewitching.  “Dean,” Cas said quietly, pressing kisses to Dean’s scarred skin in between his words, “these are just lines.”  (kiss)  “They don’t have any meaning…(kiss)…on their own.  (kiss)  They only mean what you…(kiss)…ascribe to them.”  Dean squirmed a bit and Cas noted his scent starting to shift, a touch of frustration and shame eeking in.  He couldn’t push this issue for long.  “To me…(kiss)…they are scars…(kiss)…that show how much you have been through…(kiss)…and how strong you are.  (kiss)  They make me proud of you.”  He dropped his head down and licked the head of Dean’s cock, tasting the precum and feeling a shudder run through Dean’s body.  Dean gasped and Cas wrapped his lips around Dean’s cock, suckling lightly and sliding gently down to take more of him in.  Dean moaned loudly and Cas’s dick twitched and throbbed against the mattress.

“Yes, Dean, make noise for me,” Cas said, pulling off a moment to speak and then shoving his head down to take Dean in all the way.  He sucked harder and started licking Dean’s shaft and Dean groaned and let his hand drift down and slide into Cas’s hair.  Cas bobbed his head, enjoying the sensation of Dean’s smooth, stiff shaft sliding along his lips.  As he sucked, Dean moaned aloud each time Cas’s face pressed into his stomach and the head of his cock was at the back of Cas’s mouth.  When Cas swirled his tongue into Dean’s slit, the omega gasped and bucked a bit.  And when Cas sucked extra hard on the head of Dean’s cock, Dean’s hand clenched in Cas’s hair and he whispered, “Cas!” with an urgent, tight voice.

Cas pulled off then and reached for the lube, slicking up a couple fingers.  He looked up at Dean, who was still staring at him and looked dazed with yearning.  Cas wanted to see Dean with that look on his face every day—it was utterly spectacular how those plush lips hung open, his tongue swiping along them thoughtlessly from time to time, his panting breaths making his chest rise and fall rapidly, and his dark, greedy eyes peeking out from under those long eyelashes.  This sexy, powerful, giving man was in his bed writhing with desire—for him!  Cas’s shoulders and chest swelled with the sense of control and power.  He had never felt anything like it because he had never had anyone so deserving grant him such trust.  It was utterly intoxicating.

Cas slipped his hand between Dean’s legs and pressed against his perineum, watching Dean jerk momentarily and then rock against him.  He circled Dean’s rim gently and leaned forward to lick a long stroke up the length of Dean’s shaft.  Dean let out a loud groan and his hips started a gentle circling motion that Cas was sure Dean wasn’t even aware of.  Cas sucked Dean’s cock back into his mouth at the same time he pressed his middle finger into Dean’s hole, and smirked internally when Dean’s groan shifted into a cracked sort of whimper.  He fingered Dean gently and sucked his cock in a matching easy rhythm, slipping his index finger in as well after a minute or two.  Dean always felt so hot, like an industrial furnace, all heat and fire sucking him in and threatening to burn.  Cas pressed one of Dean’s legs up to his chest and leaned down to gently lick and suckle at his balls, still sliding his fingers smoothly back and forth in and out of Dean’s ass, occasionally twisting them and rubbing along the rim.

Dean was rocking down onto his fingers now and clenching the sheets with his casted arm and Cas’s hair with his good arm.  As Cas worked him over, he moaned more and more, and Cas thrilled at every noise he worked out of the omega.  When Cas finally slid a third finger in, Dean rocked down hard and moaned so loudly it was almost a shout.  His hand gripping Cas’s hair pulled hard and Cas let out a whimper of pain.  Dean looked down, startled and pulled his hand back, making Cas smile.  Then Cas went back to work, licking Dean’s balls and burrowing down further until he could slide his tongue around Dean’s rim, slurping up Dean’s slick that was leaking out around his fingers.  He fucked Dean gently with his fingers, studiously avoiding his prostate, but licking and sucking at his rim, then sliding his tongue in place of his fingers and tongue-fucking Dean’s ass with abandon.  Dean writhed and whined and rocked his hips to press against Cas’s mouth as Cas lapped away at Dean’s hole.  Only when had tasted Dean enough, did he rise to his knees scoot up tight between Dean’s legs.

Dean was staring at him with a hungry, desperate look and Cas’s own cock had been painfully hard for what seemed like ages.  He pressed his knees forward, lifting Dean’s ass up to rest on his thighs and rubbed the head of his cock along Dean’s crack, wetting himself with Dean’s slick.  Then he pressed the red, swollen head of his cock up against Dean’s hole, and looked up at Dean as he pushed inside.  Dean moaned deep and low in his throat when Cas slipped inside and Cas had to pause, holding himself still in that spot.  This moment was always so incredible, Dean’s rim holding him so tight and snug just under the head, and Dean’s heat surrounding his head and pulling at him to shove inside.  He held back for several seconds until the pressure to fuck and to claim and to take and to come had eased a bit, and then he pressed slowly forward, eyes on Dean’s face, watching his mouth drop open and his eyes squeeze closed with the sensation.  He pushed in steadily until he was buried inside Dean, their pubic hair mashed together.  Then he closed his own eyes and rocked his hips in a circular motion several times, reveling in the feeling of Dean’s walls rubbing over his cock and the heat of Dean’s ass surrounding him.

When he opened his eyes, Dean was looking at him.  “Cas?”

“Dean.”

“Will you…I want…”

Cas felt a twisting little thrill of excitement in his stomach.  “Anything, Dean.”

“I want you to come on me.  Paint me.  My stomach…”

 _Holy fuck._  “God yes, Dean,” he said, and then he was lost.  His hands dropped forward to the bed on either side of Dean’s shoulders and he rocked his pelvis back and forward slowly once and then, sure he had his leverage, started ramming into Dean, shoving him up the mattress until he had to reach up to press against he headboard to stop it.  He fucked hard and fast, his mind filled with the image Dean had just given him, desperate to place his mark over those cuts—to mark Dean as his own beloved, precious, perfect omega.  He saw Dean’s rough, but sensitive and perfect skin, smeared with his come and he was overwhelmed with need and heat and desire.  Dean’s ass was gripping tight all around him and the friction was incredible and he was so hot and smooth and perfect and Cas fucked and slammed into Dean.  Dean was panting and whimpering as Cas fucked into him on and on and on, so fast and hard and desperate and hungry.

Cas panted out, “Dean…so good…fuck, Dean…come for me…please…” wanting Dean to stroke himself off as he was so close now and didn’t think he could last much longer and Dean was so hot and tight and fucking into him felt like heaven, but Dean didn’t move his arm, but then Dean was shouting anyway and his cock was twitching beneath Cas and Cas saw a white stripe hit Dean’s chest and then felt Dean’s ass gripping him like a vise as he fucked back out and Dean clenched so fucking tight around him when he slammed back in and his toes curled and his spine tingled and he leaned back and pulled out and was coming, spilling his seed all over Dean’s scratched skin.  He shook and twitched and watched Dean do the same and then it was over and he sat back on his heels and looked down at Dean.  Dean wasn’t looking at him, instead his eyes were on his own stomach, and he reached out his good hand to drag through his own come and pull it down his chest.  His fingers drifted through Cas’s come, swirling them together and smearing the mix around over Dean’s abdomen, obscuring his skin and the marks located there.  Cas watched as Dean’s eyes followed his own fingers for a couple minutes, then finally his hand dropped to the bed and he looked up at Cas.

Cas smiled, feeling warm and satisfied, and he dropped to the bed next to Dean.  He turned to face Dean and without thought, mumbled, “So perfect, Dean.”

Dean smiled, and rolled over to tuck himself up against Cas’s side, sticky skin and all, and Cas smiled at the sign of Dean’s comfort with him.  “I can’t believe we have to break our sex-fest up tomorrow.  You’re gonna owe me something special when you get back from all those hours away with your adoring fans.”

“I think you’re exaggerating the level of appreciation for my work.”

“Oh yeah?  Are you going to try to tell me that you don’t have any fans who would love to get into your pants?”  Dean’s voice was relaxed and playful, maybe even a little proud sounding.

“Mmm…I can’t say for sure.  But I suppose you will deserve something special for all the missed time in bed with you.  Did you have something in mind?”

“Yep.”

Cas chuckled.  “Okay.  Were you going to tell me what?  If I need to buy something for you or prepare a special dinner, it would help if I knew.”

“Oh no, nothing like that.”

“Uh huh.  So…a sex treat then?”

“You could say that.”

“Dean!”

Dean laughed this time—loud and warm, a sound like honey.  “I was thinking there’s something you maybe know more about than I do and so maybe you could help me explore it a bit.”

Cas’s mind swirled at the mention of something he knew more about.  “Okay?”

“Choking?”

“Fuck, Dean,” Cas moaned, feeling his cock twitch at the thought.  “Yes, please.”


	53. Fifty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of Castiel's fan event.

Cas was fucking adorable.  Dean was sitting back on the bed, coffee mug in hand, watching Cas rifling through his closet and intermittently pacing back into the room to show Dean a shirt.  Dean had nodded approvingly at about half the options so far, but Cas either tried them on and then ripped them right off or just held it out in front of him and shook his head and marched back to the closet.

“Is this what you’re like when you’re getting ready for a date?”

“No.  I don’t know.  Maybe.  I’ve never had a date that mattered.”

What?  Really?  Dean filed that away for further questioning in the future.  “Cas, this is a fan event.  These people already like you, and they aren’t there for your hot bod and brilliant blue eyes anyway.  They like your mind—your stories.  You should just wear whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

“Nothing is going to make me comfortable, Dean.  I hate these things.  I’m so bad at public speaking, and I don’t know what to say when someone tells me they love my work.”

“I bet no one does, Cas.  It’s normal.  Just say thank you.”

Cas sighed and came out of the closet, buttoning up a dark blue flannel shirt over a simple black tee.  Dean was sorry to see the t-shirt that hugged Cas’s chest so snugly covered up, but the blue definitely accentuated Cas’s eyes.  Cas had chosen almost skin tight black jeans that Dean had never seen him wear before and definitely wanted to see him wear again.

Dean set his mug down and crossed over to Cas, wrapping his arms around the man and pulling Cas’s head into his neck.  Cas inhaled deeply and Dean felt his arms snake around Dean’s waist and pull Dean tightly against him.  They breathed each other in for a few minutes and when Cas pulled back his eyes were a quiet lake blue and he smiled almost shyly at Dean.

The doorbell rang, interrupting them and Cas startled slightly.  Dean chuckled and said, “It’s probably Benny.”

“Oh, of course,” Cas said, moving to the door.

When Dean got downstairs, Benny was already inside and he and Cas were in the kitchen pouring Benny some coffee.  When Dean came in, Benny turned and shook his hand, saying, “Good morning, Dean.”

He looked awful, Dean thought.  Dark baggy circles were evident under his eyes, his hair and clothes were rumpled, and his posture was strange—sort of pulled in and tight.  Completely unlike the cool, confident, laid back detective that had first come into his hospital room.  “Morning, Benny.  Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem, Brother.”  And there it was, that warming sensation that made Dean feel a little bit better.  This was still Benny, and he had a bit of that same thing about him that Cas did—just something that made Dean feel a little bit cared for and a little bit safe without any sense at all of his space or autonomy being invaded.

They made small talk about Cas’s event for a few minutes and then Cas noted that he should head out.  He still smelled nervous, and Dean knew that leaving him at the house was adding to Cas’s tension.  “Don’t worry, Novak.  I’ll keep an eye on him,” Benny offered and Cas nodded, though he appeared utterly unconvinced to Dean.  Dean followed Cas to the front door and let him pull him into another tight embrace and scent him closely for a minute.  When Cas released him he pressed a kiss to Cas’s lips and said, “I’ll see you sooner than you think.  And when you get nervous you can always think about the fun we’ll be having later tonight.”  He laid on the flirty tone thickly and threw in a suggestive wink.

Cas’s face relaxed into a smile and he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea when I’m up in front of a crowd.”

“Mmm.  Maybe not.  But _I’ll_ definitely be thinking about it.”

Cas gave a quiet little groan and opened the door.  He looked hard at Dean and said, “Be careful.  I don’t think the detective is at his best.”

“I will be.  I promise.”

Cas nodded and stepped out the door.  Dean shut it behind him and reset the alarm.  When he got back to the kitchen, Benny was just tucking a metallic flask back into his pocket.  Dean was certain that whatever had been in it was now flavoring Benny’s coffee.

“So, we just have half an hour or so before Cas’s sister picks me up.”  He pulled out the coffee pot and topped off both his and Benny’s mugs.

“That’s perfect.  I’m expecting a search warrant to come through any minute for some property where we hope we can find the suspect or some evidence on your case, and I’d like to be there myself to supervise the team.”

“Sure.  Well, I mean, I should be fine here if you want to go now.”

“Oh no, no point until I get the call.  And Cas is right, you shouldn’t be alone.  There’s no point in tempting fate.”

“You mean tempting my attacker.”

Benny just shrugged and leaned against the counter across from Dean.  “So, you and Castiel.  Pretty serious, huh?”

It was Dean’s turn to shrug.  “Why?”

“No reason.”  Benny took a hard swallow from his mug and looked back up at Dean.  “I can’t say that I see the attraction, but he’s…a strong alpha.  I’m sorry I was hard on him at first.”

Dean nodded.  “You had to wonder about him, though.  Kind of the nature of your job and the situation.”

Benny gave a wry half-smile.  “Yeah.  Hard to make friends.”

“I consider you a friend,” Dean said.

Benny looked startled and suddenly almost nervous.  “I…don’t know what to say.”

Dean laughed lightly.  “Well, just say that after you catch this prick and before you get on the next overly intense case we can go play some pool or something.”

“Uh, yeah.  Sounds good.”

“Cool.  Okay, I’m gonna go get dressed now.  I don’t want Cas’s sister and fans to know what a slob he’s really hooking up with.”

*               *               *

When Dean headed upstairs, Benny stared at the coffee surface shining back at him from his mug.  Dean.  A friend.  He hadn’t managed to maintain a friendship outside of family—hell, even among family—in the last ten years.  Something about Dean just made him feel like someone had ripped into his chest and clenched a fist around his heart and was holding it there—threatening to twist and smash and disintegrate the last bits of humanity Benny still had.  He wasn’t in love.  Dean was gorgeous—there was no denying that.  But it was something entirely different than lust or romance.  It was more brotherly—like Dean was his younger cohort that was his to protect and to help care for.  He had been taking pride and feeling little flashes of joy here and there as he watched Dean the last week—seeing his physical and emotional healing, seeing him building a future with Castiel, seeing him so undaunted by the constant threat that hung over him every day.  His usual detachment regarding the victims he worked with had flown out the window weeks ago, and he knew he would risk his career to protect Dean if he had to.

He took a swig of his part-whiskey-part-coffee and pulled out his flask to empty what remained into the mug, then headed into the living room to take up a spot on the couch, pulling out his phone to check his messages.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean had come down and they were sitting on the couch in front of a random episode of one of those hospital soap operas that Dean seemed surprisingly entertained by.  Benny’s phone rang, and he stood and strode to the kitchen as he answered.

“Lafitte.”

It was Walker.  “We got a problem with the warrant.  Since the information originated with a third party, the judge wants to hear from you.”

Fuck piss shit!  He usually wasn’t a fucking whiner but why did everything have to be so goddamn difficult on this case.  “Shit, Gordon.  Man, we need this and it isn’t a good time.  Can’t you do it?”

“She asked for you by name.  I guess because you signed off on our re-checks of the info you got from the anonymous source.”

“Fine.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.  Fuck.”  He hung up and walked back out to the living room.  He was seething.  He wanted to hit something.    

Dean was still on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, and had muted the TV.  When Benny walked in he asked if anything was wrong.

Benny’s free hand was clenched into a fist and he struggled to contain his frustration.  “It’s just my warrant.  Judge won’t issue it until she talks to me in person.”  Fuck!  He’d wanted to already be heading out there by this time.  He was so angry he was feeling lightheaded and as he noticed his body swaying he leaned into the wall, attempting to look casual.  He didn’t need to make Dean concerned.

Dean peered at him, eyes squinting slightly.  “Well, why don’t you go?  Anna will be here any minute, so I’ll be leaving anyway.”

He started to speak to reject Dean’s words automatically and then paused, considering.  He couldn’t be sure how long the judge would wait and there’d be another delay if they had to track down another judge on Saturday.  And Dean was minutes away from heading out to a safe public place with not only plenty of people, but Castiel.   

“Are you sure?  You’ll call me if she doesn’t show up or anything strange happens?”

“Yeah, man.  It’s cool.  If you want to be all Castiel-ish about it, I can even text you when she arrives and when we get there.”

Benny nodded, mind made up.  He straightened and headed for the door, saying “Okay thanks, Dean.  Text me like you said and I hope you guys have fun today.  Lock this behind me,” he added, pulling the door open.

Dean rose and walked over.  “Yeah yeah.  I got it.  Good luck on your search.”

Benny was off now, striding purposefully to his car, getting excited again about the prospect of maybe, finally, finding something.  Maybe even Alastair himself.  He dropped into his car, and pulled out his flask, filled it from the bottle, and tucked it into his pocket, then took a long swallow from the bottle.  He had a more positive feeling than he’d felt in weeks.  He was gonna get this fucker.

He put the key in the ignition and as he was turning it, he saw a small foreign coupe pull around the corner and then into Castiel’s driveway.  Anna.  He leaned back and watched the woman get out of her car.  She was petite, slim, hip looking in jeans and a fitted jacket, with high heeled boots.  Her long dark brown hair swirled as she rounded the car and—

Ruby.  It was Ruby.  She hadn’t looked his way and was already around the car and heading up to the porch.  What the fuck was she doing here?  And right now?

His mind swirled and raced as he reached for his car door, opened it, was swinging out.  Then it snapped into place.  “Anna” had called Dean secretly.  He’d never met her, Castiel didn’t have family pictures in his house, Dean had never seen her or spoken to her before.  Ruby had to be pretending to be Anna.  And she had to have been put up to it by her uncle.  By Alastair.  He was making his move.  Right now.  In front of Benny.  Benny was standing now by his car, the door still open, and he saw Dean open Castiel's front door and step back in a welcoming way to let Ruby in.  The door shut behind them.

Benny reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, starting to walk to the house.  He would call Walker and get backup sent, and they would arrest Ruby.  But what would that do?  She wouldn’t say anything.  And they’d be right where they started, with Alastair even more on the lookout.  If the address he had didn’t pan out then he still had absolutely fucking nothing.

Or...

He could let Dean go with Ruby.  Then he could follow them right to that psycho Alastair.  And this case could be over today.  That prick behind bars and facing a life in prison or worse for the disgusting things he had done and the lives he had taken.

He stood in the middle of the street, staring at the closed door to Castiel’s house.  He had to decide.  They could walk out any minute and Ruby would recognize him.

Fuck.  It was a risk.  He shouldn’t take risks with a victim’s life and safety.  But he was right there.  He would follow the whole way and could call for backup at any time.

He reached for his gun and checked the clip, put it back in his waistband.  Stared at that door.

Walker would do it.  But that shithead was crazy.  His captain would be pissed, right up until it worked and then be pleased as fucking punch.

He rolled his shoulders, straightened his spine.  If he’d had the chance to ask Dean, he knew the omega would be willing.  Would take the risk to catch Alastair before he hurt or killed someone else.

He rushed back to his car, turned the key, put it in reverse, and backed around the corner until his car was mostly obscured by Dean’s house.

He could hear blood pounding in his ears.  This was it.  Weeks of tearing his hair out and he was going to finally get Alastair and put him behind bars.  And so what if before he made it to the station Alastair had a few extra scrapes and bruises.  Benny was sure subduing Alastair would require a little extra force.  No judge or jury would mind after they saw the victims’ pics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I put a final number of chapters on, because I think I'm close enough it's not going to change too much hopefully. And I wouldn't want to just end suddenly after all this time, so this way you guys know you have about 8 more chapters to go I think, so we're heading into the end stretch. Bless you all as always so much for reading. It is so exciting to me to have seen the hits and kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions stack up and to read every one of the comments. This is one of the funnest things I have ever tried because of readers--amazing, terrific, interesting, sweet and generous readers!!! kisses to all xxxx


	54. Fifty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby drives off with Dean; Benny follows; Cas has his fan event.

The drive to get to the bookstore where Cas was having his event turned out to be longer than Dean expected, and he was a little thrown off by Anna.  She’d seemed so great on the phone and when she first arrived to pick him up.  As gorgeous as her brother (though without the blue eyes), but with a perky, sparkling sort of vibrancy that Cas often subdued in himself.  But once they were on their way, she had seemed a little tense, though she could have been nervous about appearing before Cas’s fans, as Dean was.  But she also turned out to be a little odd.  When he’d asked her about her time working at the Omega Center, she’d seemed confused, and then downplayed it as not important.  And she kept dodging every question he asked her about growing up with Cas.  She also was constantly staring into the rearview mirror and Dean was starting to wonder how much Cas had told her about his attack and his current situation.

He cleared his throat roughly and looked out the window.

“There’s a bottle of water in the glovebox, if you’d like,” Anna offered.

“Thanks, I think I will,” Dean said, reaching for the glovebox, more excited for something to do for a few seconds to break up the mood in the car that was becoming awkward and a bit oppressive.  He pulled out the water, twisted open the lid and took several long swallows.  He offered it to Anna, but she shook her head.

“No thanks, I’m good.”  They sat for a few seconds and Dean was thinking of turning on the radio when she exited the highway onto a busy suburban road.  “Not much longer now.  I just have to stop up here to pick up the man that has the gift.”

“Oh, okay.”  They were in a busy suburb on the opposite side of the city that Dean never visited.  The road was busy and there was an outrageous amount of traffic, with streetlights every half mile, keeping their pace to that of a snail.  He wished he could think of something else to try talking about with Anna.  What if one of the only two people in Cas’s family that he cared about didn’t like Dean?

He looked out the window and thought it seemed dark for the middle of the day.  He tried to straighten up in his seat, realizing he was slumping a bit—his body felt so tired.  And he was still thirsty.  He opened the water bottle in his hand again and took another long drink.  It felt cool and pleasant sliding down his throat.  He twisted the lid back on and looked over at Anna, who glanced at him and smiled softly.  Cas’s sister was really pretty.  He thought about saying that, but his mouth wasn’t working right.  Why was he so tired?  And why was it getting so dark?  It was strange, the sky was still a much lighter color than everything else, it wasn’t like the sun was setting—just  _ everything _ was getting dimmer.  He was so sleepy, too, but he had to stay awake at least for Cas’s gift thing.  He didn’t want to be a shitty boyfriend.  He looked over at Anna and watched her glance in the rearview mirror and then suddenly she was making a sharp u-turn in the middle of the street, right in front of the oncoming lanes of traffic and Dean was confused and wanted to warn her, but she safely swept in front of the other cars and they were zooming back the way they’d come and he heard tires squealing and honking behind them and then a loud series of crashing noises, but Anna was gently tapping on the steering wheel as if in satisfaction and she turned to glance at him and smiled.

“It’s okay, Dean, just take a nap.  We’ll be there soon.”

And then it was dark.

*               *               *

Benny followed behind Ruby’s car, trying to stay out of sight but close enough to ensure he wouldn’t miss her exiting.  They drove across town to the northwest suburbs, where she pulled off the highway onto a busy shopping and commercial thoroughfare.  Perhaps she wasn’t taking Dean into danger after all.  Perhaps there was some other connection between the two of them and Dean had lied to Benny about the Anna story.  It certainly seemed unlikely that she and Alastair would be able to subdue Dean in secrecy in any of the busy suburban areas where they were currently traveling.  There were people and cars everywhere, families and traffic, and big box retail shopping areas.  There was nothing secluded about this part of town.

Benny reached over to the passenger seat for his phone and just then, several cars ahead of him, Ruby twisted her car into a tight and sudden u-turn, slipping in front of a wall of oncoming traffic that had just been released from the light.  Benny saw the curb dividing him from that side of traffic and floored his car as he jerked the steering wheel to the left.  But he never had a chance.  The cars behind him weren’t expecting to stop, and the squealing of tires and honking of horns from the opposite side of the street had panicked too many cars in front of them.  He saw brake lights everywhere and then a car slammed headfirst into his driver’s side door and his head hit the window and he saw black.

*               *               *

Ruby watched Dean drift off into unconsciousness and she breathed a sigh of relief.  She looked back and saw the pile-up that was left in her wake, and the car that she’d been afraid was following them stuck squarely in the middle of it.  The lump in her throat started to diminish and her roiling stomach started to ease.

She reached for her phone and called Uncle Chris.

“Ruby, my sweet.  You’re late.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry.  I had—I thought someone was following us, but I lost them and I’m on my way to you now.”

“Very good.  I was getting worried there for a minute.  How is Dean?”

“He’s…sleeping.”

“Ah, that’s my girl.  Did he drink the whole thing?”

“About three quarters.”

“That’ll do, that should give me several hours.  How much longer?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Make sure it isn’t much more.”

“Yes, Uncle.  Don’t worry.”  Her fingers clutched the steering wheel and she pressed the end call button.

She looked over at Dean.  He’d seemed so nice.  So excited to meet “Anna” and get to surprise his boyfriend.  What had he done to Meg to upset Uncle Chris this much?  And then, just as her mind started to offer accounts, she shut it down.   _ No. _  She couldn’t think about that.  She didn’t need to know.  But maybe she could help Dean.  Maybe she could drive to the police station and they could both be safe.  But even as she thought that, her heart leapt back up into her throat and her breathing started to accelerate.  If she betrayed her uncle, she could never be safe.  He would find a way to get to her.  And he would still get to Dean.  It was just a matter of time.  There was no one who could help her.

She drove on—headed to the abandoned gas station where her uncle had directed her.  When she got there, all was dark as expected, nothing in the vicinity for at least a mile, and she seemed to be the only traffic on the winding back road.  She pulled in next to the van and her uncle stepped out.  She got out and let him wrap his arms around her in a tight hug while her stomach seethed.  She wondered if he might just kill her now.

She felt his hand twist into her hair and rub gently at her scalp, as he murmured to her hair, “You’ve done a good job, Ruby.  You’ve made your sister and me proud.” 

He stepped back and then leaned over to pull the van’s sliding door open.  He walked around her car to the passenger door and pulled the latch.  When he saw Dean, he smiled, and Ruby closed her eyes and begged herself not to throw up.  She knew he wouldn’t like it and she wasn’t safe yet.

“Oh Dean, finally, we meet again.  And it’s so much better this way.  It will hurt so much worse now that you’ve had a taste of freedom again.  I think this time you will finally learn your lesson.”  He turned to Ruby.  “Help me,” he ordered, in a clipped tone.

She stepped around and took hold of Dean’s legs as Uncle Chris heaved his torso up.  They carried Dean over to the van and dropped him in, Chris sliding the door shut.  When he turned back to her, she was holding her breath, and wondered if he could see on her face the endless prayer she was silently offering to any god that might be listening.

He reached out a hand and caressed her face gently.  “Ruby.  You’ve done well.  Now you know what you’ve got to do next, don’t you?”

_ No! _  Nothing.  She was done.  She didn’t have to do anything else.  She  _ couldn’t _ do anything else.

“You have to keep your mouth shut.”

She almost collapsed in relief.  “Yes, Uncle Chris.  Of course.  I would never…”

“Good girl.  Because you know that if you tell anyone what’s happened here you will get in very big trouble, right?  So the only safe thing, for both of us, is for you not to know anything.”

“I don’t, Uncle Chris.  I don’t know anything.”

“That’s good.  Now go home.”

She stepped back from him and slipped into her car, started it, and pulled out onto the road.  Not one car had driven past while they’d been there.  And now she was safe.  He wouldn’t ask her for anything else.  She could go home.  And live.  So why was it so hard to breathe right now?

*               *               *

Cas really did appreciate his fans.  And the president of his fan club was terrific—someone he actually considered a friend.  But this had been one of his longer fan events and he’d known before it started that he wasn’t in a good headspace for it.  When he’d given his talk about the new book all he could think about was Dean.  When he’d taken questions and tried to give thoughtful responses all he could think about was Dean.  When they’d provided lunch and done a panel discussion all he could think about was Dean.  When he’d read one of his short stories that had just been published in a magazine all he could think about was Dean.

He wondered if Dean was safe, even though Cas knew he was with not just an alpha, but a police detective alpha.  He wondered what Dean was eating for lunch.  And what he was doing after that.  He wondered if Dean was getting excited about seeing Sam later that day, and what he would do to pass the time and contain his own nervous energies.  He wondered if Dean would remember what he’d asked Cas to do that night.  Then he tried not to think about that when his cock twitched with excitement at the picture his mind brought up of Dean aroused and choking, Cas’s hands wrapped around his neck.  So he tried to think of what Dean and Benny might be talking about and how he knew Dean would find some way to make it comfortable and easy instead of strange and awkward.  How he might hand Benny a beer and drag him into a debate about some action movie—maybe whether the cops were handled properly.  And maybe sitting around with Dean on the couch, things would seem less bleak and Benny might sober up for a while and find some hope to latch onto.

So now they were in the last stage of the event—a jeopardy style game that the fan club officers had put together based on Cas’s books.  And he had to admit the questions were clever and interesting and there were even a couple that were tough for him.  The work they’d put into it was incredible and he forced himself to focus on them and the game and try to be as present and charming as he could as the last hour of the day finally came to a close.  Then it took another hour almost to get the fans ushered out and give out a last few autographs and say goodbye to the fan club officers and the book store team.  When he got back to his car he looked at his phone and saw that it was 5:53 PM.  By the time he got home he’d have been gone for seven hours and it felt like seven days.  He missed Dean.  It felt almost like desperation.  He needed to see him and wrap his arms around the omega and scent him for days.  Bobby and Sam would be getting there soon as well, and he was wondering if he should go ahead and order some pizza or something else right now.  But he decided to wait and see what everyone was in the mood for first.  As he slipped behind the wheel and started the car, put it in gear and headed for home, he felt the tension in his shoulders slowly start to ease and dissolve.   _ God, what am I going to be like when Dean goes back to work? _

*               *               *

Benny woke up in the emergency room, bright light and blue curtains all around him.  His head was pounding and he could feel his heartbeat pulsing painfully through one of his knees.   _ Shit. _ _ Dean.  Dean was with Ruby.  Maybe Alastair now.  Depending on when now was. _  He ran his eyes over the little curtained in area.  There was the sound of voices and bustling in the room outside the curtain, but in his area, nothing.  No clock.  No people.  Nothing helpful.  And his head was like a consistent bass drum.  He swung his legs out of bed, realizing they were bare at the same time he saw his clothes folded up on stool near the bed.  He reached for them and felt a sharp prick in his arm.  An IV.  He ripped it out and tugged his pants on, pulled the gown off and threw his own shirt on over his head.  He was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to wrestle his shoes on without bending his injured knee, just as a nurse pulled the curtain a bit to the side and came in.

“Detective La—”

“What time is it?”

She seemed startled by his tone, but looked at her watch and said, “6:17 PM.  But Detective, you can’t leave.  You have to stay here so we can monitor—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.  I have a police emergency.  I have to go.  Send me whatever bills you have to, I’m sure it’s all fine, and if the doctor wants me to do some follow up, call my office.  But I’m leaving right now.”  He got the second shoe on finally and was already stepping past the nurse as he asked her, “Where’s my weapon?”

“Security office, across from the information desk by the main entrance.  Please, Detective, we really don’t—”

But he was already gone.  He patted his pockets but his phone wasn’t anywhere.  It had been on the front seat of the car, so was probably still there or lost in the crash.  He grabbed a scrub-shirted man walking past and said, “Pay phones?”

The startled man gestured the way Benny was headed and said, “Back that way, right next to the lobby.”

He nodded thanks and started half-jogging, in a rough one-stiff-legged fashion, to the phones.  He called 9-1-1 and got the dispatcher to put him through to Walker’s phone.  His head was still pounding and his mind was swirling around, showing him the accident, his car spinning half a turn and then its tail end hitting the car in front of him and bouncing back, more car strikes, squealing of tires and then stillness and silence and Ruby’s car disappearing in front of him.   _ With Dean. _

“Walker.”

“Walker, get an APB out immediately on Ruby Masters and on her car, it’s a red Honda Civic, look up the plates.”

“Lafitte?  Where the hell are you?”

“At the hospital.  In Dellwood.  It doesn’t matter, you just have to find them.”

“Jesus Christ!  Were you in that big pile-up over there?  Are you saying Ruby Masters was involved in that?”

 “Walker!  Listen to me.  Get the APB out.  Now.  Find them.”

“Them who?”

“Ruby and Dean.”

“Dean?  Winchester?”

“Yes.  She’s got Dean in her car.  I think she might be taking him to Alastair.”   _ Fuck.  Taken him already. _  “Wait.”   _ Shit. _  “Okay, nevermind.” 

“So now you don’t want to the APB?”

“Fuck, Walker.  Yes, still do it.  But…shit, he’s probably already got Dean.”

“Who?”

“Alastair!”

“Alastair?”

“Fucking Rolston.  Fucking shit, Gordon, just do it.  Then call Dean and Castiel Novak both and find out where Dean is.  Then call me—fuck.  You can’t call me.  I don’t have my cell phone.”  His mind was racing.  “Did we get the warrant?”

“Yes, I left you a message hours ago.  We’ve just been waiting for you.”

“No no no!  You can’t wait for me.  Go, you need to go.  The whole team needs to go there now.  With backup.  When can you get there?”

“Well it’s Saturday, man.  Everybody went home already.  I can go and get some backup there, but the forensics—”

“Okay.  Screw the investigation team.  Just get there as soon as you can and get some backup.  I’m hoping to God that’s where Alastair has taken Dean.”

He hung up and leaned his head against the phone.  If he found a car and went now he would get there before Gordon.  He pulled out his wallet and used a credit card to call Dean.  It rang.  And rang.  Then went to voicemail.   _ Fuck. _  He tried Castiel.  Voicemail again.  He slammed the receiver down and staggered across the lobby area toward the “Security” sign he saw peeking out from behind the information desk.

After having to waste almost three minutes intimidating the startled security guard on duty into giving him back his gun, he finally burst out the lobby doors into the evening air.

A bright yellow cab was parked directly in front of the doors, the cabbie tapping his fingers on the hood of the car to the beat of some soft music.  He rushed around the car and pulled the driver’s door open.  The driver stumbled and Benny pulled on his arm, tugging him to his feet outside the vehicle. 

He pulled out his wallet, slid out a card and shoved it into the man’s hand.  “Madison PD.  I need to borrow your vehicle.”

The man didn’t move, just stared, looking him up and down.  “Man, you don’t look so good.”

“Sir,” Benny said, releasing his weapon and pulling it out of the holster, though not taking aim at the man.  “This is an emergency.  I need you to step away from your vehicle right now.”

The man stepped back and to the side several steps, his hands held awkwardly in front of him as if facing a feral cat.

Benny stepped to the car, opened the door and slid in.  When he was sure the man wasn’t going to move, he set his gun down on the passenger seat and as he slid the car into gear and pulled away, yelled out at the man, “You can call the department to give them your information so they can get the car back to you after I’m done with it.”

He screamed out of the hospital parking lot and onto the busy street, weaving in and out of cars, heading for Alastair’s mystery property in the woods.  He glanced over at the passenger seat and saw the cabbie’s cell phone laying there.  He grabbed it and tried Dean again.  And again it went to voicemail.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel.  The dashboard clock said 6:28 PM.   _ FUCK! _  Seven hours had passed since Ruby had taken him.  If he was right and she had taken him to Alastair’s newly discovered property then he’d been there with that man for maybe as much as six hours.  Holy fuck, what might that psycho have done to Dean in all that time.  Because of  _ him _ .  Because  _ Benny  _ had let Ruby drive off with Dean.  He pulled onto the two-lane highway heading out into the county and jammed the accelerator down hard.


	55. Fifty-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair tries to make Dean pay. WARNINGS FOR: Violence, physical abuse, torture.

Dean knew it before he opened his eyes.  It was happening again.  His body ached and he could feel ropes digging into his wrists, his arms wrenched up and back, his head pulled back tight against something hard.  But it all seemed somehow distant.  As if it was happening to someone else, someone far away.  A small part inside of him somewhere was panicked.  There was hyperventilating, a heart pounding, perspiration and chills.  But all of that seemed to be someone else, even though that someone was also him.  There was no point in pretending.  In hiding.  He opened his eyes, blinking hard as they adjusted to the light.

A large room, with rough poles here and there, nearly empty.  A concrete floor that dipped down to a drain just off to one side of Dean.  A basement.  He was alone.  Tied to one of the poles, his arms above his head and his head pulled back to the pole by a rope or something across his forehead.  He couldn’t look down, but he could feel his ankles were tied to the pole as well, though at the floor so they bore some of his weight.  Plenty of his weight was resting on his arms and shoulders, though, and he was becoming aware of a sharp consistent pulsing pain in his previously broken arm.  Broken again then.

It didn’t hurt as much as the first time.  Nothing hurt as much.  He didn’t feel as much.  He wondered if he had given up.  Was he ready to die?  Maybe.  He’d done everything important that he needed to do.  Really the only single important thing he’d ever needed to do.  Raise Sam.  His little brother was all grown up now—smart, successful, caring and generous—everything Dean ever could have hoped for.  He wished he’d gotten to see Sam fall in love and settle down, but he knew Sam would find someone amazing and would be a terrific partner.  It was enough.

And Dean had gotten the most incredible bonus these last weeks.  Castiel.  His own guardian angel.  Right next door to him for years and he’d never noticed him except to assume he wasn’t worthy of the author with the insanely blue eyes who seemed so put together.  And even though he’d been so blind he’d still gotten the chance to feel Cas’s love.  And it was the most perfect sensation Dean had ever felt—so much more than he had ever thought to imagine on his own.  More warm.  More fulfilling.  More satisfying.  More comforting.  More joyous.  Just more.  When Cas looked at him with those deep, blue eyes, Dean felt  _ significant _ .  When Cas tilted his head and considered Dean, then pushed back against something Dean said, Dean felt  _ understood _ .  When Cas opened his arms and leaned his head back, inviting Dean into his embrace, Dean felt  _ cherished _ .  And when he buried his face in Cas’s neck and inhaled that incredible scent of Christmas and carnivals, Dean felt  _ home _ .

Dean twisted slightly in his restraints.  There was no give.  He knew there wouldn’t be.  The Man was good at binding.  He looked around but there was very little to see.  That hated wooden bench—he had no doubt it was the same one he’d been tied to before—was off to his left.  There was an old utility basin in the back right corner, the faucet dripping rhythmically.  It made Dean realize he was thirsty.  And that he wasn’t gagged.  That was strange.  The Man had kept him gagged nearly all of the time before.  He moved his mouth, licked his lips roughly.  His jaw was sore, but working.  He saw a small, high window almost directly opposite him.  It was light outside, though he could see little else but some high grass.  He listened intently for a moment but heard nothing.

He wished he’d had the chance to leave some kind of message for Castiel.  His family—they would be fine.  Sad, of course, but they’d recover.  And they’d know how much he’d loved them.  But Cas—Dean had barely told him a couple times how he’d felt about the alpha.  And the words, ‘I love you’, they felt so inadequate now.  It was so much more than that.  He’d been planning to ask Cas to share his heat—something he thought he would never share with anyone ever again.  He’d pictured them staying together even after The Man was caught and put away—just living on together in Cas’s house, or picking the next step in their lives together.  Dean had already been thinking about putting his house on the market after Bobby finished the fix-up next week.  He’d been afraid to approach Cas about it, knowing he was rushing things.  But after years of relationships that felt wrong, Dean knew what felt right. 

For a while he’d thought he could do the right thing, and move on from Cas after this danger had passed.  Let Cas find someone actually worthy of him and go build a life with that person.  In Dean’s mind, as Cas’s perfect mate, for some reason Dean pictured a small, slim, boyishly handsome young omega with large brown eyes and deep brown hair.  He had no idea where the vision came from, but it was there and he knew everything about this boy.  He would be smart and educated, like Sam and Cas.  He would have none of Dean’s twisted history with masochism and unhealthy relationships.  None of Dean’s history of being raped and abused and, especially of liking some of the abuse.  None of Dean’s sometimes overactive machismo and need to be strong, when admitting to weakness was the right move.

But he hadn’t been able to hold to that plan.  He was too weak and too selfish for that.  He wanted Castiel.  He wanted Castiel for himself.  For as long as he could have him.  So maybe this was the perfect solution—Cas could be free even though Dean wasn’t strong enough to leave him. 

He closed his eyes and he saw Cas’s face.  The perfect jawline and strong chin with just the bare beginning of a cleft.  Those pink, soft lips that constantly appeared just a little chapped, making Dean want to kiss and lick them basically all day long.  That hair that never seemed to fall into line and then those eyes.  The brightest blue Dean had ever seen—like a sunny July sky just before dusk.  He tried to will Cas’s scent into being, but it was too dank and musty—he couldn’t bring it to fruition no matter how he tried.  But he could almost hear Cas’s voice.  Those low, gravelly tones, saying ‘Dean, I have feelings for you’ and ‘May I stay and do what I can to assist you, Dean?’   _ Fuck. _  Every time Cas said his name now it did things to Dean.  He could feel his pulse accelerating now just at the thought of it.  There was so much meaning in that simple short word.  It had always just been an identifier when everyone else said it.  Or sometimes from Bobby or Sam it was almost a curse when he’d been a particular shithead to them.  But Cas said it like a benediction, like a prayer, like a promise.

Creaking.  Steps above him.  Someone was home.  And Dean had no doubt who it was.  He listened distantly for a while to the movement above as he continued to conjure Cas’s face.  Charlie and Sam would help Cas.  He’d have to be okay in the end.  Cas could help Sam, too, and maybe they would be friends.  He liked that idea—Sam coming to visit Cas between important humanitarian missions.  Cas being an uncle to Sam’s kids.  Maybe they’d grow up to read Cas’s books.  Maybe Cas would dedicate a book to them.  And then they’d grow up to write their own.

Then the door creaked open and he let the picture go.  Opened his eyes and gazed at the stairs.  At The Man walking down them.  Exactly the same as he’d been all those weeks ago.  The same creepy, perverted smile on his face.  He stepped slowly over to Dean and looked into Dean’s eyes.  Dean expected to feel frightened.  He knew what was coming—maybe not specifically, but pain, and probably this time eventually death.  And there was still some deep, internal panic going on somewhere in his chest, but it didn’t hit his stomach, didn’t seem to be affecting his actual breathing.  And he found it difficult to care.  He couldn’t scent Cas now, but he had.  He had every single day for five fucking weeks.  There was nothing else in life that he needed anymore. 

“Hello again, Dean.”

Dean said nothing.  There was no point.

“I hope you’ve been thinking of me.  You must have missed me all these weeks we were apart.”

Dean stared at the window behind The Man’s head.

The Man slapped him hard and his eyes snapped back to The Man’s face.  He felt warm wetness from a split in his lip and licked it clean.  He imagined Cas licking his lips, biting into his lip to make it bleed more, tasting the blood and smiling at Dean.

“So Dean, you must have been wondering all this time—why you.  I know you couldn’t have recognized me since we never had the opportunity to meet, but you knew someone close to me.  Someone very important to me.”

Dean had been wandering, but at The Man’s last words he focused slightly.  Of course he fucking wondered.  But he knew it was because of some sick, bad, sloppy choice he made.  As he always eventually did.

“Do you remember my Meg?”

Dean could feel his brow furrow.  The tiny little sadist that had taken photos of him without asking?  He croaked out, “Yeah, I remember.  She was psycho.”

The pain was instantaneous.  The Man had punched him hard, slamming his head back against the pole.  Dean spit out a mouthful of blood, felt a tooth wiggle with his tongue.  And spoke without thinking.  “Sorry, I meant nutjob.”

The Man grimaced, but didn’t hit him this time.  “She was my niece.  And my protégé.”

It clicked.  “Oh, so you’re Alexander or Axelrod or whatever.  Mmm.  Nice to meet you.”  He spit again, not worrying about where it went and smirking slightly when The Man stepped back to avoid it.

“Alastair.”  The tone was ice cold again and Dean thought vaguely that he should really be scared.  Or at least watch what he said.  But if he was going to die in the end anyway, maybe the sooner the better.

“Sorry I can’t say it’s nice to meet you,  _ Alastair _ .  Your niece was crazy, but she was nothing compared to your loony ass.  I was actually sorry to hear that she died.  But having met you, I guess I know who took her out.  You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?”

As he said the last words, everything changed as if he’d flipped a switch.  Alastair lost all control, slamming his fists into Dean’s face and stomach again and again, pounding and pounding into him and Dean hung helplessly in his ropes, the panic finally starting to work its way to the surface, thinking maybe this was it—no drawn out torture, no long beatings, just this—this crazy man’s fists ramming into him over and over until there was nothing left of him but a mushy sack of what used to be Dean Winchester.

*               *               *

He’d blacked out, but it must have been just for a few minutes.  Alastair was hunched over in front of him, holding his hand, his knuckles dripping Dean’s blood.  His face and torso hurt everywhere.  Breathing was painful and he knew he had more broken ribs.  He wondered idly if they were the same ones.  The panic was muffled again, though, and Dean was grateful.  He hurt badly, but he was still ready.  He couldn’t go through this a third time, so he knew this had to be the last time.  He needed Alastair to finish what he planned and end things with Dean.  And Castiel was nowhere around—so he wouldn’t be hurt, wouldn’t have to see.  Though he still wished he could think of a way to leave some kind of last message for the alpha—something to make him understand what Cas had done for him, had meant to him.

As he watched, Alastair rose and looked Dean in the eye.  He was smiling again.  Cold.  “You’ll have to try a lot hard than that, son.  I have plans for you, and you’re not going to get me to cut them short.  Don’t worry, you’re going to die here, but not until a lesson has been learned.”

He turned and walked over to a small rickety looking shelf hanging above the wash basin.  Turned around with a utility blade in hand.  He strode over to Dean, tugged the bottom of his shirt away from his body and then sliced through it neatly with the blade, cutting it from his body.  He made quick work of Dean’s jeans and boxers, nicking Dean’s legs a couple times, but clearly unintentionally.

He kicked the shreds of Dean’s clothes to one side and gazed at Dean’s naked strung up form.  “You know, I really don’t see what Meg found so tantalizing about you.”  He stepped close again and ran his hand over Dean’s chest, and down across his stomach.  “Though I am rather pleased with my work from last time.  It’s a shame we can’t extend our…association…to see how I might improve the rest of your body over time.”

He looked up at Dean’s face.  Brought the blade up between their eyes.  “You broke her.  You broke my sweet little Meg.  Daddy’s little girl.  She was…made of something unique, you know.  But then came Dean.  Dean Winchester.”

“I had nothing to do with it.  She was broken long before me.  And something tells me it was you that did the breaking.”

Alastair stared at him.  Dean thought he was going to rage again.  Or hiss something threatening in that snakey voice of his and then slice out with that blade.  But then Alastair laughed.  Threw back his head and laughed.  It lasted for a full minute.  Maybe two.  Then as the laughing eased, he spoke, still chuckling idly, and taking a step back.  “I’m sorry.  This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you.  I shouldn’t laugh.  It’s just that, I mean, are you serious?  You think  _ you _ can torture  _ me _ with your weak, pathetic words?  It’s okay.  I know.  You gotta want a little payback for everything I did to you.  For all the…pokes and prods.”

“I don’t blame you.  That’s why I’m not gonna gag you.  That and the fact we’re truly in the middle of nowhere now.  No nosy alpha neighbor Castiel who might hear what we’re up to.  Oh, and just so you don’t have any doubt what’s going on here, Dean, I know about you and that poor alpha writer you’ve managed to wrap around your finger.  And it’s  _ him _ that we’re breaking today.  We both know you’re not going to survive this—I’m done trying to teach the unteachable.  You’re a waste, Dean.  But Mr. Castiel Novak, I think he might be taught.  And I think what will break Castiel, Dean, is you.  When I shed your blood, who do you think it will hurt more?  You?  Or Castiel?  As you break, so shall he break.”

That did push through Dean’s haze and Dean felt the panic swelling inside him again, threatening to take over his body, to turn him into a screaming, writhing wreck.  To leave him pleading and begging this sadist for release.  What if he was right?  What if his death broke Castiel?  If Castiel was never able to pick up his life and move on again?  If he suffered the rest of his life because Dean had let himself enjoy the warmth and comfort of Cas’s arms for all these weeks.

“Let’s begin,” Alastair said, pulling Dean from his own head.  Alastair stepped three steps to one side of Dean and reached around his back, pulling something out that must have been tucked in his pants.  A whip.  Not short, but not long either, a snake whip maybe, soft and flexible looking with a hard knot at the end.

And then there was pain.  Dean’s eyes flew open and a shout was pulled from his throat.  He’d seen Alastair move, but there had been no crack to announce the strike, just pain blossoming along his thighs, hotter than hell, like blue fire.  The shock of it traveled up his spine and then Alastair was already moving again.  More hits in quick succession, lighting fire all over the front of his legs, thighs, shins, everything alight with fire.  He couldn’t look down to see, but he knew he was dripping blood already.  The pain raced up and down his legs, and it hissed up through his spine, his eyes seeing only flashing white lights now.  The whip came again and again and Alastair was talking, but Dean had no idea what nonsense the prick was spewing.  All he knew was the pain and eventually his throat sore and aching, making him realize he had been screaming.

When he was aware that Alastair had stopped, he saw the man standing before him, panting slightly, a sheen of sweat on his face.  He glanced down and saw Alastair’s hard-on pushing against his fly, and he closed his eyes.  Cas’s face, Cas’s scent, his voice, anything—he was trying to conjure something of the alpha but it was so much harder than before, with sharp lightning pain pulsing through his body, his legs in an agony of fire.

“Don’t worry, Dean, we won’t do this over your whole body.  I think after I’ve treated your chest to the whip, when we turn you around I’ll come up with something better for your back.  I have in mind some more creative writing, perhaps.  Something to mark you as the disgusting waste you are.”

“See, when you’re found, I want there to be no denying what you are.  Why you have had to suffer.  How you, a slutty piece of trash, failed to honor and respect your better—the flawless alpha that deigned to share her art with refuse like you.  After I’ve marked you properly, your precious Castiel will see what you really are.  So you can die knowing that he will not only suffer with the initial agony of knowing how you suffered, but then he will finally see the truth of Dean Winchester and will regret every moment he spent with you.”  He laughed as he stepped back from Dean and raised the whip again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to keep the chapters coming through this suspenseful part as fast as I can.


	56. Fifty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair tries to punish Dean; Dean thinks about Cas; Cas arrives home to find Dean missing; Charlie talks to Cas and Sam. WARNINGS FOR: Violence, physical abuse torture. (NOTE: the bad stuff is all in the first scene, so you can skip to the first set of asterisks and safely read after that if you want to avoid the Alastair bits.)

Dean wasn’t screaming anymore, there were noises coming from him—moans and whimpers, maybe more.  But the shock of each strike was wearing off, blending into the constant super-heated fire sensation that was covering the front of his body now, his chest, arms and legs covered in the burning pain and the more muted sensation of wet, hot liquid—his blood, he knew—dripping slowly down his skin.  His stomach had been left alone—Alastair probably didn’t want to harm the words he’d carved into Dean’s skin the first time.  But the rest of his front side was an inferno.

Dean heard Alastair’s words from earlier bouncing back and forth in his head.  ‘Your precious Castiel will see what you really are.’  He would finally see the truth of Dean Winchester.  He would regret every moment he spent with Dean.  Dean’s stomach was roiling at the thought—even as he cowered from the thought his mind was trying to conjure the image of Cas’s face turning sour with disgust as he looked at Dean.  But…it wouldn’t come.  He couldn’t picture it.  He couldn’t imagine Cas’s face gazing at him with revulsion and distaste.  He couldn’t see Cas believing any words that Alastair might choose to carve into his skin.  Or any story Alastair might choose to perpetrate about him after his death.

Cas had already seen those words.  Cas had already heard that Dean believed them.  But he hadn’t.  He had pulled up Dean’s shirt, looked at those words, kissed the scars and stared back at Dean again with the same, adoring and fucking adorable gaze as he’d had before.  He’d said ‘Thank you’ and ‘So good’.  He’d called Dean magnificent and said he had more faith in Dean than anything else in life.  He’d used words like ‘courage, honor and sensitivity’ to describe Dean.  And he’d started to make Dean believe them a little bit.  Maybe he wasn’t unworthy trash.  But whether he was or not, Cas would never think so.

When Alastair dropped the whip and hunched over to his knees, panting with exertion, Dean looked up at him.  It was over now.  The psycho had blown his fucking wad.  Used all his tricks.  He’d thought using Castiel’s love for him would break Dean.  But Dean wasn’t broken.  He heard Cas’s voice in his head saying “I am not broken, Dean.  And neither are you.”  Alastair could hurt him.  Alastair could kill him.  But he couldn’t break him.  He had nothing left, and Dean felt that little ball of panic in him disintegrate into nothing.  He wasn’t afraid of more pain.  And he wasn’t afraid of dying—which would just be the pain ending.  Castiel Novak loved him—thought he was worthy.  Cas thought he was fucking precious.

Dean closed his eyes and Cas’s face was there again.  His blue eyes.  His deep, warm voice.  And now his scent was there, too.  Pine and balsam, peppermint and licorice.

Dimly he felt Alastair untie his legs and arms and throw his body over his shoulder and drop him face down onto the bench, then tie him back down again.  As if tying were necessary.  Dean didn’t think he could move if he tried.  The bench seared against his flayed skin, then became slick with blood, easing the pain a bit.

He focused on Cas.  His voice reading Watership Down.  Cas’s huge grin when Dean said he didn’t need the crutches and boots anymore and he’d get to drive Baby home.  Cas holding him night after night when the flashbacks to Alastair drove him out of sleep.  Cas letting him scent the alpha that first time at the hospital and how he had smelled like home and everything Dean had ever longed for in life.

Alastair pulled up a rolling stool next to Dean and a little TV tray full of cutting tools like a dentist or a surgeon and Dean almost felt himself chuckle.  He picked a thin blade and said, “Hmm.. How about…  ‘putrid’?”  He leaned forward over Dean’s back and pain sliced slowly across a small patch of skin near one shoulderblade.

Dean thought about Cas’s voice, low and husky with desire, saying, ‘Oh Dean, please…please fuck me’.  He saw Cas leaning slightly back as Zeke’s punch went past him and then grabbing Zeke’s arm and slamming the beta against a van.  He saw Cas’s embarrassed shameful face afterward and how the alpha had longed to apologize.  He thought about Cas at the hospital, so confused by Dean’s reticence to call his family.  Where anyone else would have said something like ‘Why in hell haven’t you called your family who love you and deserve to know?’, Cas had tilted his head and inspected Dean in that thoughtful way, and asked ‘Will you tell me why not?’  He saw Cas sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over his work, scratching edits over typewritten pages, his hair sticking up and his tongue poking just slightly out of one side of his mouth.

Alastair sliced and worked and taunted Dean with the words he selected.  But they were all more of the same.  VILE.  TRAMP.  CHEAP.  PATHETIC.

Mind-Cas was looking at Dean with azure eyes wide and his voice like velvet saying ‘I love you, Dean’.  Mind-Cas was winning Bobby and Charlie over in ten minutes of meeting them and without saying almost anything.  Mind-Cas was stammering shyly as Dean suggested they sleep together.  Mind-Cas was wrapping Dean into a tight embrace and whispering in his ear ‘So good, Dean. So precious.’  Mind-Cas was sliding his hard cock inside Dean as his eyes pierced into Dean’s heart and the alpha moaned with pleasure as if being inside Dean was like feeling pure ecstasy.    

*               *               *

Cas’s stomach was in his throat the second he saw the house.  It had started getting dark outside, but there were no lights on in the house, and no porch light.  He threw the car in park and rushed to the door, shoving his key in the lock and throwing the door open as he yelled Dean’s name.  The house was silent.  Eerie.  But nothing looked amiss.  He tore through the place looking for anything—any sign of what went wrong, but everything was in its place.  It was as if Dean and Benny had just left, but there was no note.

He ripped his phone out of his pocket, but had no messages from Dean.  He had a couple of missed calls from unknown numbers, but no messages.  He called Dean.  Straight to voicemail.  His heart was in his throat.  What had happened?  If Alastair had taken Dean, why was there no sign of a struggle?  And Benny would have left some message wouldn’t he?  He called Benny’s phone, which rang several times then went to voicemail.  His head was starting to pound, he could feel his own heartbeat rushing through his temples and underneath the skin of his back and shoulders.  Dean wouldn’t leave without telling him.  He wouldn’t.  Not in these circumstances.  He would know how Cas would worry and he’d respected that.  Cas’s breath was picking up, he felt puffed up, larger than usual in some way.

He dialed 9-1-1 and asked for Detective Lafitte’s department.  Thirty seconds into his conversation with a detective named Gordon Walker he knew.  Walker said only that he could not confirm Dean’s whereabouts and that Detective Lafitte was out on an urgent case and couldn’t be reached currently.  His hands were sweating and he could hear the grown in his own voice when he explained who he was and that he was worried for Dean’s safety.  Walker of course simply instructed him to stay home in case Dean returned and that they would immediately begin a search for the omega.  But Cas knew.  Dean was taken and Benny was out looking for him.  He terminated the call and smashed his fist into the first thing he saw—the large ornate mirror that hung in his entryway.  The mirror cracked and splintered in a spiderweb and Cas pulled back his hand, knuckles bleeding.  He felt nothing.  At least in his hand.  The rest of him was seething anger.  As if he were the pure emotion brought to life.

He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, knowing he was growling and must look like a crazed wolf.  Then his eyes flicked to the right and he raced out of the house and over to Dean’s house.  He kicked the door three times until it flew in and he raced through the house.  But Alastair had not brought him here.  Of course not.  He would have been immediately caught this time.  Then his eyes opened wide and he raced back to his own house, picking up his discarded phone and dialing Charlie as he moved purposefully to the garage.  He put the phone on speaker and set it down on the hood of Dean’s car as he pulled and lifted boxes and tubs out of the way to get to the box he wanted.  Charlie answered as he pulled it down to set it on Baby’s hood.

“Cas, how was your fabulous fan day?”

“Charlie, I need the address of that property you found.”

“Um…oh…okay…”  He could hear her rustling around.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think he’s taken Dean again.  The address you found is the only lead I have.  I’m going after him.”

There was silence for a minute, then she rattled off the address.  She paused and said “You got that?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll text it to you, too, just in case.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m coming, too, Cas.  It’s farther from where I am, but I’ll be there.”

“Dean would want you to just wait, Charlie.”

“I don’t give a shit, Cas.  I’ll be there.”  Then the line was dead.

Cas gathered the weapons he’d pulled from the box, a scoped rifle, automatic rifle and two handguns.  He pulled two extra loaded magazines and was about to turn away when he reached back for one last thing.  It was a gigantic nasty looking machete and Cas loved the weight of it in his hands.  He’d never thought he could actually use it, at least not in a fight with a human being.  Until now.

He pushed the button to open the garage door and strode to his car.  He threw everything in his hands to the seat and pushed the key into the ignition.  He looked at the dashboard clock.  6:23 PM.  He’d be there in forty-five minutes.  God please let Dean be alive, he silently prayed, then threw the car into reverse and spun out of the driveway.

*               *               *

“Sam?”

“Hey, Charlie!  How are you?”

“Sam, listen.  I have to tell you something.”  There was an echo in the background.  He was sure she had him on Bluetooth in her car.

“Sure, Red.  What’s up?”

“Where are you now?  Are you already on your way to Cas’s?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there, actually, maybe half an hour more.”

“Well, something’s happened.”

“What do you mean?  Is Dean okay?”

“Well, no actually.  I mean I don’t know.”

“Charlie.  What.  Are you.  Saying.”  Sam’s voice was tight—tense and she could hear Bobby growl something in the background.  “Charlie, I’m putting you on speaker.  Okay.  Go ahead.”

“I got a call from Cas.  He came home and found Dean missing.  Something about it has him sure that Dean’s attacker has taken him again.  I don’t know all the details, but Cas is going after him and so am I.”

“Why was Dean alone?  Nevermind, forget that.  Just…what do you mean going after him?  I thought the police didn’t know where he was?”

“We don’t for sure.  But I did track down some information tying him to a piece of property with a house on it way out in the woods up north of town.  Near that Fire Lake.  It’s all we’ve got, and we don’t think the police have had a chance to check it out yet, so we’re going.  I just wanted to let you know ‘cuz I don’t know what condition you’re gonna find the house when you get there.”

“Where is it?”

“What?”

“This property.  What’s the address?”

“Sam, you shouldn’t go too.  Someone should go to the house in case Dean does show up.  I don’t know that this might all just be some kind of misunderstanding and maybe he’ll come home any second.”

“No.  I’m coming.  Give it to me.”

“Sam, you shouldn’t.  Bobby is a beta.  Think about…”

“Listen here, girl,” Bobby’s gruff voice came over the phone, “I love that boy like my own son and we’re both going.  That’s all there is to it.  And the more of us in a fight the better.”

“Okay.  Fine.”  She rattled off the address and Sam repeated it back.

“Yeah, okay, thanks, Charlie.  For everything.”

“Be safe guys.  I’ll see you there.  And keep in mind we have no idea what we might be walking into.  Just ‘cuz this guy was alone the first time doesn’t mean he will be now.”

“Got it.  You too, Charlie.  Be careful.”

“Yep.”  She hung up.  Shit.  Had she just turned this into a huge bloodbath somehow?  But then she pictured Dean smiling at her, wrapping his arm around her and tucking her face to his shoulder and she forgot about second guessing.


	57. Fifty-seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair gets frustrated with Dean; Sam, Bobby, Cas and Benny all rush to get to Dean; Dean thinks about Cas. WARNINGS FOR: Violence, torture, physical abuse, brief references to rape/sexual abuse. (NOTE: First scene and last scene are the Alastair ones, so the others should be safe to read if you're trying to avoid Alastair. But I would recommend the last scene if you can take brief references 'cuz not a lot of abuse happens but there's pretty good emotional stuff in there.)

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Alastair’s voice rasped through the room.  Dean was drifting, in and out of consciousness, the pain still like a fiery inferno now all over him, but none of it seemed significant.  In his mind, Cas was shaking from the possibility that Dean might share his heat with the alpha.  Dean was sorry he wouldn’t be Cas’s first.  That Cas had helped so many others before him.  But he was also proud—proud to be selected and deemed precious and special by this too-good-to-be-true alpha that cared so much for others and gave so freely of himself.

“Dean, you’re really beginning to irritate me.” Alastair stood up and kicked the stool away.  “It’s like you aren’t even here with me anymore.  And that just.”  He pulled a large rod off the shelf.  “Won’t.”  He stepped back over to Dean.  “Do.”  He lifted his arm and then swung down hard, slamming the metal rod into Dean’s already re-broken arm that was stretched out above his head and pulled taut by ropes.  Dean heard a bone snap before he felt the jolt of pain, then the shock of it ran through his body and he jerked against all his ropes and screamed as he hadn’t screamed for hours.

Alastair caressed the throbbing arm as Dean cringed.  He felt tears sliding down his cheeks.  “Mmm…that’s much better, Dean.  Let’s try to stay present, shall we?”  Alastair moved his free hand from Dean’s arm over to rub at his own crotch, which Dean saw was full and straining against his pants.  He closed his eyes. 

Cas.  He needed Cas.  There.  There it was.  Cas’s face.  His lips soft, begging to be kissed.  WHAP!  The rod came down on his other arm he screeched in pain and pulled at the ropes.  He tried to imagine those lips kissing him but then the rod came down again on his ass.  This time there was no threat of a break, but the pain was like fire searing across his ass.  He wished it was Cas.  If only Cas were doing this to him.  Then he could enjoy it—they could enjoy it together.  He felt tears slide from his eyes as he thought about all the things they hadn’t gotten to do yet.  To try.  He’d really wanted Cas to do these things.  To whip him.  Beat him.  Paddle him.  Cut him.  And then make them both come in the aftermath.

The rod came down and Alastair was shouting curses at him, ranting something about how worthless he was and how Castiel would see it and despise him.  But hearing Cas’s name from those lips just made it easier.  Easier to picture Cas instead of Alastair.  Easier to imagine all the praise Cas would be spouting as he slammed a cane down onto Dean’s ass.  How Cas would call him beautiful.  And perfect.  Precious.  So good.

*               *               *

“Bobby, maybe we should split up.  We can stop at that gas station and you could call a cab or Ellen and go to Dean’s house like Charlie said.”

“Jesus Christ, not you too, Sam!  You idjits are not keeping me from helping take care of my son.  And you haven’t met Castiel yet, Sam.  That boy is almost sure in a full-on alpha rage.  I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anybody so gone on anyone.  He’s worse than your dad was for Mary.  For shit’s sake, if he does find them there he’s going to kill that prick.  And then he’s going to be in prison.  For falling in love with our Dean.  Well, not on my watch, boy.”

“Shit,” Sam cursed.  “Okay.  Am I going the right way?”

“Yeah, just keep on here and then take Highway T when you hit it up there near Myra.”

“Okay yeah.”  Sam was breathing hard himself now.  Thinking about someone hurting Dean.  Tying his brother down and beating him or…worse.  “Fuck, Bobby.   _ Dean’s _ always taken care of  _ me _ .  I…  God, I wouldn’t know what to do if I didn’t have him.”

“I know, boy,” Bobby said and reached up to rest a hand on Sam’s shoulder.  “You gotta stay calm.  We need to get there fast, but all in one piece, you hear?”

Sam nodded.  He breathed deeply, trying to count his breaths.  But in his ears he heard Dean screaming in pain and he felt something deep in his chest tearing open.

*               *               *

Castiel had been driving for fifteen minutes.  Every one of which felt like an eternity.  He was still so far away, almost 28 miles.  He was speeding too much for his car on these tight, windy back highways without shoulders or lights of any kind.  But it didn’t matter, something in him was more aware of everything around him.  He could see every speck of light in the trees and every painted stripe reflecting on the road like the brightness of a flare.  His focus was entirely on the drive and he could hear nothing but his own blood in his ears.  It was pounding his heartbeat and reminded him of times when he’d lain in bed with Dean and tried to force his body to match Dean’s slightly faster pulse by mere force of will.  He’d failed of course.  He wasn’t Dean.  He could never be a part of Dean in that way.

But he did love Dean and he had gotten to feel the rapturous joy of having Dean Winchester love him.  Having Dean share his bed, discuss the possibility of plans for the future.  His perfect, precious Dean.  In the hands of a monster.  Again.  And he’d let it happen.  He’d trusted Benny, and he’d let this happen, too.  Cas didn’t know how, but if Dean was indeed suffering at Alastair’s hands, Cas knew he’d be going to prison for a long time.  And not just for harming Alastair.  He had seen Benny in a downward spiral and had still entrusted Dean’s safety to him.  And Dean might be paying for his disastrous error right now.

His head pounded and he couldn’t think anymore.  He could only drive and clench the steering wheel.  And picture Dean’s beautiful face—his green eyes and pouty lips, his sexy sarcastic smirk, and his low voice, tempting and teasing him.  “I want you to fuck my face as hard as you can.”  Cas growled loudly in his car and rubbed his fists on the steering wheel.  He looked over at the pile of weapons in his passenger seat.  He forced himself to pull a hand from the steering wheel and he started checking the weapons.  He unbuckled his belt and slid it out a few loops, then threw the machete’s sheath and fastened it again.  He tucked a handgun in the back of his pants and the small one in his sock.  He checked both rifles and sat back.

He remembered seeing Dean lying on his kitchen floor that Saturday night weeks ago.  He could still smell the sickening mix of vinegar and ammonia from Dean’s fear and pain and the putrid gasoline smell of sadistic pleasure.  Bile welled up in his throat and he swallowed it down forcibly.  He didn’t have time to pull over and be sick.  Every second could count, could save Dean one more moment of suffering, maybe save his life.  What if Dean wasn’t there?  What if this property wasn’t the one and none of them had any idea where Alastair had taken Dean?

He shoved that thought down.  Instead he pictured Dean in his hospital bed, the first time he woke up and opened his eyes to Castiel waiting there.  He’d looked so tired and uncertain—so small in that expanse of white sheets and sterility.  He remembered Dean asking to scent him a few days later.  It had been a test that somehow Cas had passed without really knowing why.  Of course, considering what Dean’s scent did to him, he would have trusted Dean implicitly as well after that moment.  But Dean, who Cas had always seen as confident and sure of himself, had seemed so shy and awkward when he bid Cas to sit on the bed next to him and then looked up and softly said ‘Can I scent you, Cas?’ 

And Castiel knew he would remember those few minutes until his dying day.  How he had tried to move close enough to Dean without putting any pressure on Dean’s injuries.  How he had practically held his own breath with the anxiety of Dean possibly rejecting him and making him leave.  How they had started to gently breathe together in rhythm and then Dean had pressed his nose into Cas’s neck and hummed with pleasure.  How Dean smelled of cinnamon and jasmine and something like engine grease that he could never have imagined would seem so perfect.  How Dean’s scent had changed and showed small signs of healing as they sat there breathing each other in.  How proud he had felt when Dean accepted him with a nearly intoxicated look that reflected back to Cas everything he was feeling.  It had been one of their handful of perfect moments.

Cas was not ready to quit adding to that list—making more perfect moments with Dean.  Imperfect moments.  Fucking shitty moments.  He wanted them all.  If he spent his entire life with Dean pissed at him and shutting him out it wouldn’t matter as long as Dean was alive and happy.  If Dean  _ was _ still alive when Cas found him, he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make sure he stayed that way.

*               *               *

Benny had pulled over twice to vomit in the grass at the side of the road, but he had only pulled over, not taking any time to get out and immediately pulling back on and keeping underway, so he didn’t think he had lost any time.  He wasn’t drunk anymore.  The time and trauma had apparently done its job, so the only pounding in his head now was from the lump on his forehead where he must have hit the steering wheel or dash or car frame in the accident.

What he was suffering from now, he knew, what he was really traumatized by, was his own guilt.  His responsibility for whatever was happening to Dean.  Dean would be safe at Castiel’s if he had arrested Ruby, interrogated her, anything other than letting her drive off with Dean.  Assuming he would be able to follow.  Failing to call for backup or let his team know his plan.  He had done everything wrong and another person, a survivor once already, was paying for it.  He knew he had destroyed his friendship with Dean and had probably ended his career with his drinking and unsupportable choices.  Hell, he may have no life at all left once Castiel Novak got hold of him.  Surely the alpha would take his wrath out on Benny once he understood how Benny had caused this situation.  And he would deserve it.  Castiel just didn’t deserve to have to go to prison for dealing out the punishment Benny had earned.

He looked at the dashboard clock.  Maybe half an hour to go.

*               *               *

Alastair had turned a radio on.  It was that same song.  He remembered Alastair singing it the first time.  Something about heaven and dancing cheek to cheek.  Dean opened his eyes and saw through the little window that the sun was starting to set.  The sky was starting to get an orange tint.

“Well, Dean, I think our time here is nearing an end.  I have to say I’ve been a little disappointed this time around.  You just don’t seem as responsive as that first time.  But of course you were never good enough for my Meg, so I shouldn’t really be surprised at what a used up boring little omega you’re turning out to be.”  He was talking loudly to be heard over the radio.

“Just fucking do it, already,” Dean spit out.  His voice sounded rough, almost inhuman, and crazily quiet for the effort it had taken to speak.  “I’m so sick of listening to you talk.”

Alastair laughed.  “Ahh, there’s a little bit of that Dean Winchester spirit!  Wonderful!”  He stood next to Dean and ran a hand through the blood covering Dean’s chest, swirled his fingers around in it.  Then brought two fingers up to his lips and sucked the blood off thoughtfully.

“I’ve never really been interested in fucking a subject, but in your case I’m considering making an exception.  I have the impression you would find that more than a little distasteful and I can just imagine what your Castiel would think of you afterward.”  He pulled his shirt over his head and Dean closed his eyes.

Cas would love him still.  Would love him just the same.  Cas knew about how Zachariah and his friends had abused Dean and nothing had changed at all.  Cas knew what Alastair had done to him the first time and had fallen in love with Dean after that.  Cas knew about Dean’s desires, his need and hunger for pain, and Cas not only still loved him, Cas wanted to help him fulfill those desires.  He wanted to hurt Dean and heal him at the same time.  Mind-Cas looked at Dean, tied to this bench in this basement, tortured and abused by this sick fuck, and his low, perfect, hot chocolate voice said, ‘You are doing so good, Dean.  You are so perfect.  You can’t believe how beautiful you look.”  Mind-Cas looked at the scars on his stomach and whatever new ones were waiting on his back now and he saw something else.  He saw PRECIOUS.  PERFECT.  STRONG.  BRAVE.  WORTHY.

Dean was floating in a daze of pain mixed with the imagined bliss of almost being able to feel Cas’s arms around him.  When he heard a rattle and chink, he opened his eyes to see Alastair’s pants dropping to the floor and the man’s hard cock sticking out in front of him.  But then in the background behind him, as if Dean’s mind had willed it into being, the door at the top of the stairs opened up suddenly and then feet were on the stairs, feet that turned into Castiel, huge and beautiful and in full alpha rage, and Dean smiled at the image his mind had conjured—the big, strong alpha, storming down the stairs and launching at Alastair.


	58. Fifty-eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescuers start to arrive. WARNINGS FOR: Violence (though in this case it is earned and justly doled out, so I'm not sure if people need to be warned or not).

Cas turned off his headlights as he pulled into the long gravel driveway.  He could still see everything as if he had developed some sudden special photosensitivity.  The trees were outlined around the drive and he headed slowly up the road.  As soon as he saw the building nestled in the trees, he parked and turned off his engine, stepping out.  The woods were dark and deserted, except for the small pale brick house, with only a few lights on—one coming from a low basement window and two from the rear of the house.  The front had almost no illumination other than the basement window.  There was only one vehicle parked there—a maroon utility style van.  He stood quietly for a moment, hearing nothing other than his own blood rushing through his ears.  He could feel the coiled tension in his body and a roaring voice inside his head was yelling at him to move—to get in there and save his mate—his beloved, precious omega.  But Castiel had worked for years now on ignoring that voice—on fighting against the raging alpha that in his youth had been so enticing.  He closed his eyes for a moment to breathe deeply, imagining Dean’s perfect scent and forcing himself to think and move carefully.  He glanced at the rifles on his seat, but glanced up and knew he would be better off in the small confines of the little house with his hand weapons, so left the rifles where they lay.  His blood was still seething, but his training had kicked in and he stepped cautiously and quietly up to the house and knelt down to look into the basement window.

He immediately gasped and almost staggered with the mix of horror and relief that flooded him, reaching out with one hand to steady himself against the house’s foundation.  There was Dean.  Strapped face down to a bench, naked, blood covering his body.  But he was breathing.  His back rose and fell in a beautiful, amazing, perfect rhythm.  He was alive.  Then music came on suddenly—some kind of oldies showtune, and a moment later his enemy stepped into view. 

A second later, Cas was on the move.  He could  _ not _ let that beast touch Dean even once more.

He stepped to the door, praying the music would cover his approach sufficiently.  Everything in his vision was coated in a red haze, the blur of rage filtering through everything unnecessary as he tried the door, opened it easily and stepped in, focusing immediately on the door that almost certainly led to the basement.  He moved as silently as he could to the door and opened it.  Dean was directly in front of him beyond the foot of the stairs and the monster was standing between them facing Dean.

All of his training disappeared.  He couldn’t think—couldn’t analyze this situation and pick the safest approach.  Dean was right there.  Bleeding.  And the beast was a single stride away from the omega.  He could be killed in a moment, in a single handstroke if there was a weapon in his enemy’s hands.  Cas took the stairs in three bounding steps and launched himself at his enemy, tackling him and throwing them both to the floor.  He had tried to aim his leap so they wouldn’t fall toward Dean, but in doing so the fall had been off balance.  His enemy struggled beneath him, lanky and lithe.  Cas grappled and used his weight, seeking to pin the monster to the floor.  His enemy pulled an arm free and jabbed an elbow hard into Cas’s rib, throwing Cas off to the side.  As he fell, though, Cas kicked out and his foot made contact with the man’s shoulder, spinning him around.  He dropped to his hands and knees, coughing wetly and Cas launched himself onto the man’s back, letting the sudden force of his body weight press his enemy flat to the floor, legs and arms sprawled out in all directions.  Cas paused only for a moment, to secure his balance and position, then he tilted his weight and flipped the body underneath him, pressing back down immediately after.  He used his legs and body weight to pin his enemy down and slammed his left hand against the monster’s neck, leaning down.  His enemy flailed beneath him, his movements now losing their direction and usefulness as he began to choke beneath Cas’s hand.  He tried to kick Cas off of him, but Cas rested comfortable above him, his legs pressing down on the other man’s thighs, preventing him from getting any real force behind any movements.

Cas stared down at the face of his enemy.  The man who had caused Dean so much pain.  Not a man.  A monster.  In his peripheral vision Cas could see Dean.  He was covered in blood and looked barely conscious.  There were stripping cuts and tears all over his body, from his neck all the way down to his toes.  It looked like he had been whipped mercilessly and cut again as well.  Cas stared at the thing below him.  His enemy stared back, his eyes huge, gasping desperately for breath as Cas permitted him just enough air to keep him from passing out.  Then he slammed his right fist into his enemy’s face.  He felt like he was looking into the face of evil.  Cas smashed his fist into his enemy’s face again.  And again.  And again.  The monster choked and struggled and writhed below him and then eventually stilled.  Cas’s right hand dropped to his side. 

All he could think about was the sick torture this monster had put Dean through.  Everything was dark and red and the room felt like a furnace around him.  He sat still on top of his enemy, breathing hard, the knuckles of his right hand dripping Alastair’s blood onto the floor.  He wanted to kill this thing—this demon who had taken so much from Dean, left him thinking he was valueless and perverse.  But that wasn’t justice.  It would be much too easy.  This wretch deserved to be treated as he had treated Dean and his other victims, to be beaten and raped and cut and torn and twisted and then to be emotionally flogged and torn apart over and over again until there was nothing left of him but a weak, fear-ridden shell.  Then he could be permitted to die.  Or to rot in prison.

He sat and breathed, lost in a daze of simmering rage, when something else pounding in his head started to push through and finally he recognized it as the music that he’d heard playing before.  It was cycling that one song over and over and it filled Cas with seething hatred.  He staggered to his knees and over to the shelf, pulled the device off and smashed it to the floor, stomping on it until all he could see were bits and pieces and all he could hear was his own heavy breathing.

Then he saw his enemy’s discarded pants laying on the floor next to him.  He reached down and ripped the belt from its loops, then stepped over, reached down and looped the belt around Alastair’s neck, buckling it tightly at the chin, forcing the peg through the thick leather by hand.  Then he started dragging Alastair’s prone body across the floor by the loose end of the belt.

“Ca-asss.”

Cas pulled the body over to a support pole that had rope strung near it from the ceiling and around it at the floor.  The floor underneath it was streaked with blood and Cas had no doubt where the blood had come from and why the rope was there.  It was Alastair’s turn.  He started to run rope under the man’s arms and around his body, when he heard it.

“Caaass.”  It was weak and shaky and sounded nothing like Dean.  But suddenly Cas realized where he was—what he was there for.   He was kneeling at Dean’s side in an instant, afraid at first to touch him as it looked like anywhere he could reach would cause pain.  Dean’s arms were both swollen and miscolored and almost all of his body was covered in bloody cuts and tears.  Cas dropped his head below Dean’s to peer up at Dean’s face.  It looked mostly unmarked, and Cas tentatively reached up and touched his palm to Dean’s cheek.

“I’m here, Dean.”

“Cas.” It came out like a choked whisper.  “Are you real?”

Cas smiled at him, cupped Dean’s face with both hands, gently caressing Dean’s cheek with his thumb.  “Yes, Dean.  I’m real.  You’re safe now.”  He curled his neck below Dean’s to press his lips gently to Dean’s.

“I need to…before I die…I have to…”

“Shhh, Dean.  You’re not going to die.  It’s over.  We’re going to go home and I’m going to take care of you.  Just be quiet right now, okay?”

“But…”  Dean shook and rattled weakly at his ropes as if in frustration, and Cas almost laughed with glee to see the little show of energy from his strong, tough omega.

“Okay, Dean, I promise you that after I do just a couple things I will listen to anything you want, okay?”  God he wanted to stay there and untie Dean and then take him into his arms and just hold him and kiss him and remind him how loved and precious and perfect he was.  But he didn’t have that luxury.  Not yet.  He needed to be smart.  “But I need to restrain Alastair first.  So I need you to just hang on a couple more minutes for me.  You’re doing so good—you’re so brave and strong and I know you can do this just a little longer.  I promise he won’t hurt you anymore.  Ever.  Okay?  So just, hold on for me.  I love you.”  He pressed another light kiss to Dean’s dry lips and this time Dean pushed back just the slightest bit and Cas felt something in his chest burst with warmth and joy.  Gathering all the strength of will he had, he forced himself back to his feet and back over to Alastair. 

He reconsidered his initial instincts.  He was too far out for emergency services to get there quickly, so he would need to take Dean himself.  He needed to get Dean to safety and although it appeared Alastair and Dean had been alone in the house, he couldn’t be sure Alastair had no accomplices that might show up.  He would need to secure Alastair as best he could and alert the police to his location.  He wouldn’t have time to treat Alastair to what he deserved—Dean had to be his priority.  An old St. Andrew’s Cross was leaning against the wall in a far corner of the room, so Cas dragged Alastair over to it and began pulling ropes under his armpits and around his torso, then leveraged him up onto the cross.  He worked as quickly as he could with the bloodstained rope, to secure Alastair tightly to the cross, arms, legs and torso.  Then he ran extra ropes to secure the cross itself to support beams on either end of the wall the cross was leaning against, wanting to be sure Alastair wouldn’t be able to tip the cross over. 

When he was sure that Alastair wouldn’t be able to move from this spot without assistance, he stepped back to Dean.  His arms looked to be in bad shape and Cas was sure one or both of them were broken, so he moved to them first.  When he released Dean’s right arm, Dean let out a weak shout and Cas carefully moved the arm until it was draped down along the side of the bench.  The other arm got less reaction from Dean to Cas’s relief and he quickly moved to Dean’s feet and the other ropes.  Just as he was tugging the last rope free he heard a creaking in the floor above him.

His eyes flew to the stairs as his hand reached immediately behind him for the gun tucked in his pants.  He whispered to Dean, “Dean, stay still.  Don’t move.  No matter what.”  Then he stood and moved stealthily along the wall to the foot of the stairs, aiming his gun at the open doorway.  Footsteps moved across the floor above, toward the door, and then Charlie was silhouetted in the open doorframe and they both froze for a moment.  Then Cas let his arms drop and sagged slightly against the wall as Charlie stepped carefully down the stairs on tiptoe, as if she were still at risk of being shot by a raging alpha.  When she got to the foot of the stairs she clasped Cas’s forearm gently with one hand, squeezing slightly, and took in the room. 

A moment later she had dashed across the floor and put her own cheek soft against Dean’s and was crooning something to him about safety and how glad she was to see him and the delicious pie she was expecting as repayment for the trouble he had put everyone through.  Her eyes remained on Cas the whole time, though, and she looked worried.  Cas leaned against the wall, watching her. 

The red haze was lifting, and he was starting to feel himself again, but in the wake of his urgent need to save and protect, he was beginning to feel lost and confused.  He wanted to take Dean in his arms.  But he needed to ensure there were no accomplices remaining to place Dean at risk.  He wanted to take Dean home, tuck him into bed, and hold him forever.  But he needed to smash every bone in Alastair’s body and flay the skin from every inch of him.  He wanted to beg Dean to love him, to be his, to marry him, to mate with him, to stay with him always.

“Cas?” Charlie’s voice came across the room.  “You can put that away now.  We’re safe.”

He looked up at her, momentarily confused.  Then he looked down at his hands and back up at her.  “The house.  We need to clear it.  I didn’t have time.  There might be someone else here.”

“Okay…” she said.  “Here’s what we’re going to do.  You check the house and I’ll stay here with Dean.  Then when you know it’s clear you’re going to help me take Dean out to the car.”

“Yes,” he said firmly.  Right.  She was right.  He nodded at her and gripped his weapon again, pleased, as the room came back into focus again and he moved smoothly and quietly up the stairs.  It was a tiny house, only four rooms including the kitchen both he and Charlie had walked through.  There was no one else there and the only vehicles outside the house were the van, his car and now Charlie’s Prius.  He put the safety on his weapon and tucked it back in his pants as he headed back to the basement.

Dean was still awake, but moaning and whimpering somewhat regularly now as he seemed to be coming back to himself somewhat and therefore more aware of the pain his body was suffering.  Charlie was rocking him and babbling about something to do with their next road trip.  When Cas came in the room she looked up.  “Hold him while I go get something for the pain, okay?  We can get that down him before we move him.”

He nodded, then bent down and gently pulled Dean up from her lap into his arms, as Charlie guided Dean’s arm out of the way and then stood, draping it carefully across Dean’s chest.  He held Dean to his own chest, gently rocking him like a baby, looking down at Dean’s face.  His eyes were closed now and his brow was pinched and lined with pain.  He made small whimpering noises, but his head had dropped over to lean against Cas’s chest.  Charlie headed up the stairs just as Cas heard a soft wet sputtering noise behind him.

He turned and saw his enemy’s head shaking as he returned to consciousness.  He watched the monster shake his head roughly, spit blood onto the ground twice, cough and slurp, and eventually lift his head up to look at he and Dean.  The face was a mass of swelling, cuts, and lumps from Cas’s beating, but the eyes were like cold ice—gray blue with no humanity behind them to be seen.  He regarded Cas for a moment and then started laughing roughly, choking and coughing on his own blood as he did, but persisting despite the difficulty.

“Oh, this is perfect,” his enemy chortled.  “I’m so glad you’re here to see your useless little waste in person.  I had thought I might finish things by…tasting his wares, so to speak, and then…ending his sad, useless little life once and for all.  But it is nice to see this instead.  To see his alpha finding out exactly what a vile,…weak, putrid little piece of trash Dean is.”  The voice had changed and twisted as Alastair spoke, from humor shifting to anger and hatred as he finished.

“You’re wasting your breath,” Cas whispered, tugging Dean more tightly to his body instinctively.  “You’re finished.  The police are on their way and you’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

“Pay?”  Alastair coughed and spit more blood out.  “Pay?  Pay for teaching twisted little omegas the respect they should have been taught long ago?  No.  Soon I will be revered and…everyone will understand why we can’t let these…sick perverted omegas continue on without learning respect for their betters.”

Cas forced himself to ignore the beast of a man.  His enemy was trying to force a confrontation—force a situation that might permit him some opportunity to escape or just to cause himself or Dean more pain.  He could not let that happen.  He had to be strong.  He looked down.  Like Dean.  He could be strong like Dean was.

Alastair continued to talk and Cas ignored him, forcing himself to focus on Dean’s face, on whispering to Dean about how he was safe and Alastair was caught and this would never happen again.  Then Charlie was stepping down the stairs with a water bottle in one hand and a stare of pure hatred on her face, aimed at Alastair.

“Oooh,” hissed their prisoner, “it’s the little redhead.”

Charlie approached them and pressed the pill she had in her hand into Dean’s mouth.  “It’s Vicodin, Dean.  It’ll help with the pain until we get you to the doctor.”

“Another one of Dean’s idiot alpha protectors.  Are you as foolishly enamored of that sick little wretch of an omega as Castiel here?”

Charlie held Dean’s head gently with one hand as she tilted some water into his mouth and they watched him swallow.

“Alphas like you are just as bad.  You’re letting vile whores like Dean—”

Then, too fast for Cas to react with Dean cradled in his arms, Charlie had dropped the water bottle and flew over to Alastair, slamming her own fist against the side of his head.

“Charlie!” Cas shouted with all the alpha force he could muster.  “Stop!”

She froze, her fist already lifted to strike again.  Alastair groaned and shook his head.

Cas felt the same way Charlie did.  Wanted to do the same thing.  He searched his mind frantically for something that would make a difference.  Finally, he said, as firmly as he could, “Dean wouldn’t want us to.”  He wasn’t at all sure that was true.  Though he was sure Dean wouldn’t want her to go to prison for protecting him.  Or avenging him.

A moment passed, then her arm dropped to her side.  She didn’t turn to look at Cas, just stalked up the stairs and he heard her move out of the house.  No doubt in need of fresh air and some kind of space without this monster present to regain her control.

Alastair slowly lifted his head again, a sick smile on his face as if he had somehow won a victory.  “Hmm…alone at last, Castiel.”  He spoke with a sort of hissing tone to the S that turned Cas’s name into something sinister.  “This isn’t the end, you know.  If Dean survives this, I’ll just come for him again.  It doesn’t matter if they put me in prison.  I’ll get out someday.  Or I’ll send someone else.  But he will learn his lesson.  If it takes me until the day I die.  Or beyond.  I’ll make sure he suffers and dies with my face the last thing he ever sees.”

Dean was in his arms.  Or his enemy would already be silenced.  But Dean was in his arms.  This place was sick and dirty and filled with horrific memories of whatever Dean had already suffered.  Cas couldn’t put him down.  But Cas heard Alastair speak and the sound rang with the note of truth.  His enemy meant what he said.  He would spend the rest of any life he had pursuing Dean and his vendetta against Cas’s precious omega.  It was all Cas needed to know.  He wasn’t alone now.  He had someone else to care for Dean so he could accomplish his task.  Cas made up his mind.

He turned and followed Charlie up the stairs and out of the house.  As he approached his car, Charlie saw him and moved ahead of him to open the rear door and assist as he slid Dean into the backseat.  Dean was in and out of consciousness, seeming mostly unaware of what was going on around him now, but he seemed in no immediate danger.  Cas pulled out a blanket from the trunk and tucked it gently around Dean then shut the door.

“I need you to take Dean home,” he said, gazing down at Charlie.  She gave him a confused look and he followed it up with, “I’ll stay here until the police arrive.”

She looked at him appraisingly.  “You’ll stay here?  With him?”  She nodded her head slightly toward the house.

He nodded.  He knew she could guess what he had in mind.  And that she didn’t blame him, but would want to protect him from paying the consequences of such a choice.  The same as he had just done with her.  But she hadn’t heard Alastair’s last words.  And there was no point arguing or explaining.  He didn’t intend to change his mind.

Apparently, she was feeling the futility of arguing with him as well, and they both stood quietly looking at each other for several moments.  Then she reached out one hand and grasped his forearm, squeezing gently as she had when she’d first arrived in the basement.  She was about to say something when they heard tires on the gravel drive and looked up to see an old pickup rumbling toward them.  As it neared, Cas recognized Bobby in the passenger seat and assumed the tall, young man driving must be Sam.

“You called Sam,” he whispered to Charlie.

“Of course,” she shrugged, before she called out “Dean’s safe, it’s okay,” to the newcomers and moved over to the truck where Sam was stepping out, allowing him to pull her into a tight hug.  As Bobby walked toward Cas, he saw Sam release Charlie and then when she gestured at Cas’s car, he saw Sam peer through the window for a few moments and then stagger slightly back up against the truck he had just come out of and pull Charlie into a longer, tighter embrace.

Then Bobby was in front of him.  “Where is he?” the older man asked gruffly.

“The basement.”

“Dead or alive?”

“Alive.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows.  “Dean’s in your car?”

Cas nodded.  Sam and Charlie had opened the door to his car again and Sam was crouched down next to the car, whispering something to Dean.  It looked to Cas like he might be shaking.  Charlie had an arm resting comfortingly around Sam’s shoulders and was bent down to listen to him.

“What’s his condition?”

“Broken arm, cuts and tears all over, too much blood loss but nothing else that appears life threatening.”  His voice shook as he spoke, but he was proud that he got it out without screaming.  Dean’s father was here.  He would know how to care for the omega.

“Good.  The police?”

“On their way.  Could be here any second.”

“Okay.  We need to get Dean to the hospital.”  Bobby called back to the other pair, without turning his head, his eyes intent on Castiel as if he feared the alpha would disappear if he didn’t watch him.  “Charlie, you and I can stay here to watch—”

“No,” Cas interrupted.  He looked at Bobby and prayed the man would understand.  “I’m staying.  But someone needs to take Dean to my house and get him a doctor.”

“Cas, I don’t think—”

“I’m staying, Bobby.  And Dean is not going to a hospital.  He’s going to my house.  I know a doctor who will come take care of him there.”  He knew his voice was hard, but he wouldn’t back down.  He prayed it wouldn’t come to a fight, but if Dean’s family wouldn’t agree, he would have been comfortable with tearing through each of them if he had to.  Dean was going home.  And Cas was staying to take care of the problem.  For good.  Dean would never be in danger from this monster again.

Sam and Charlie had walked up as Cas was speaking and Sam looked like he was about to say something when Bobby nodded.  “Okay, Cas.  We’ll do it your way.  Charlie and I’ll take Dean to your house and you call your doctor friend to meet us there.  Sam’ll stay here and help you out.”

“Bobby…” Cas started, looking Sam up and down.  He knew Dean loved this man, but he didn’t know him at all.  And he had to finish his task.  Fast, before Benny or the other detective arrived.

“Listen, Cas, Sam loves Dean as much as you do.  We all do.”  And with that, he turned on his heel and tugged Charlie toward Cas’s car.  To Cas’s surprise, she said nothing, just reached into her car to grab a bag out of it, toss her keys onto the seat and then slipped into the passenger seat.  It seemed Bobby could make anyone fall into line.

Cas nodded at Sam and turned back to the house, feeling the tall man shadowing him as he headed down to the basement.


	59. Fifty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this is it. Cas and Sam get some alone time with Alastair; Benny arrives. WARNINGS FOR: Some bloody violence.

Cas led Sam down to the basement, nodding his head toward the corner when they reached the bottom of the stairs.  He watched Sam register the monster strapped to the cross in the corner, breathing raggedly.

“That’s him?” Sam said, his voice a husky sort of whisper, but still loud in the echoing basement.

Cas nodded.

Sam stepped closer, moved up to Alastair, whose eyes opened as Sam approached.  The two glared at each other then Alastair smirked.  “Who’s this then?  Does our little omega have yet another foolish alpha admirer?”  He coughed a bit and spit, though Cas noticed he didn’t aim it at Sam.  He wondered if this monster was finally starting to feel a little fear.

“I’m Dean’s brother,” Sam spit out, his voice tight, like a taut wire that could break if plucked too hard.

“Ho ho!  Little brother back from Africa just for this moment!”  Alastair laughed and smirked, then choked and coughed roughly for a moment.  “I hope you got to see how I cared for your brother Dean in your absence.  Of course, I’m sure you’d be ashamed if you knew how he screamed and begged the first time we—”

Sam’s fist in Alastair’s stomach cut off whatever the monster was going to say.  Cas could smell Sam’s rage—his scent was filled with it.  “You sick fuck!” Sam screamed.  “How could you hurt someone like Dean?!  He is the best person I know—he would give his own life to help someone else, you fucking disgusting—”

Sam stopped his raging when Alastair abruptly spit blood into his face and smile broadly.  “Of course little brother refuses to see the vile waste his whore brother really is—”

Sam’s face slammed into Alastair’s mouth this time, whipping his head around and making Sam shake his hand roughly.  He pulled his arm back again and Cas said, “Sam.”  It was quiet, but Cas watched and admired how controlled it turned out the young man could be.  Sam’s arm froze and then he let it drop to his side and turned to face Castiel.  

Cas stepped forward and said, “Sam, I…wish we had met under better circumstances.  But we don’t have much time.  Detectives are already on their way here and could arrive at any moment.  When they do they will take him into custody and I will lose my chance.”

He paused and Sam nodded, waiting for the rest.

“I don’t know if Bobby left you here to help me or to stop me, but if it’s the latter—I cannot allow you to stop me.”

“Stop you from what exactly, Castiel?”  Sam said his name awkwardly, as if uncertain of the pronunciation.  But it didn’t sound like a taunt or like disrespect.  And the young man was studying him thoughtfully.

“Before you arrived, this…thing…explained something to me.”  Cas flicked his eyes back to Alastair, who was watching them carefully.  He could feel his hands clenching into fists at his sides.  He needed to finish this.  They were running out of time.  He was surprised Benny and Detective Walker weren’t there already.  He didn’t know how much more time he had.

“He said that this wouldn’t be the end.”  He spit the words out.  They were bile in his throat and his vision was started to shift to red again as he spoke them.  “He wanted me to know that he would just come for Dean again.  That even if he faced prison time, he would get out someday.  Or send someone else in his place.  That if it took him until the day he died, or even beyond it, he would make sure Dean suffers and dies with his face the last thing Dean ever sees.”  Cas was spitting the words out by the end and his voice had become low and strained.  He was almost afraid he hadn’t been understood.

But Sam’s eyes had widened as he spoke and Cas needn’t have worried.  Alastair was there to confirm it all.  He had started a gurgling sort of chuckle as Castiel spoke and when he finished, Alastair hissed out, his voice a whispering snake of a thing, “That’s right.  You may think you’ve saved your twisted little whore this time, but there will always be another.  He’ll pay for his disrespect—for what.  He.  Is.”  He spit a mouthful of blood out and then laughed.  It was a strange laugh, weak and powerless, but somehow still filled with a venomous tinge of evil that made Cas shudder.

Sam had turned back to face the monster as he spoke, and his eyes had widened further.  Cas could see and smell the horror enveloping Sam.  Sam looked around the room, picked up Alastair’s discard shirt and ripped a piece of fabric from it.  He then stepped up to Alastair and shoved it in his mouth.  When Sam turned back, he just nodded at Cas.  Cas tilted his head and examined Sam.  With his height, he appeared intimidating, but he didn’t have that alpha sort of presence on the outside otherwise.  Cas didn’t mind—neither did he.  But he could sense Sam’s resolve and strength and he knew that Dean had raised this young man and there was no doubt he had more fortitude than would be expected.

“I do not believe death is a sufficient punishment for what he has done to Dean and his other victims.”  He waited, watched as Sam nodded curtly.  “But out of respect for you, if that is what you feel would be just, I will modify my plans.” 

A small little smile turned up at the corner of Sam’s mouth at that, and his voice was stronger this time when he asked, “I’d like to know what my other option is.”

“I’m going to allow him to live but make sure he doesn’t have the means to hurt anyone ever again.  He will spend the rest of his life a helpless victim rather than a perpetrator.”

“Good,” Sam said firmly and without hesitation.  “What can I do?”

“You can go upstairs and keep an eye out for the police.”

“No!” Sam said, his voice sounded of offense and betrayal.  “No way.”

“Sam, what I’m doing…it will put me in prison.  You can’t be involved.  You know Dean could never be happy if you were in prison because of this.  You can’t take away what we are trying to do for him.”  Cas could hear how his own voice had slid into a sort of pleading tone, but desperation had already seeped into his limbs at the thought of Dean’s suffering when he realized his brother paid for protecting Dean with his freedom.

“Castiel, I understand everything you are going to say.  But you can’t ask me to step away from this.  I  _ will _ help you and together we  _ will _ protect Dean.”

“No Sam, this is the one—”

“I’m staying,” Sam said.  He had filled his voice with alpha command and his strength and power forced Cas back a step as he reeled for a moment at the force of it.  “Now, we need to hurry, so what should I do?”

Cas felt lost.  He was failing.  He was failing Dean.  Just when Dean’s safety and happiness had been right there in his hands.  Sam paying for this crime—he couldn’t allow it.  He had to get Dean’s brother out of there.  He knew he could take Sam in a fight—regardless of Sam’s size and strength, Cas knew his training would prevail.  But not without injuring Sam.  Perhaps badly.  And certainly he couldn’t fight Sam, somehow drag him from the house,  _ and _ then return and take care of Alastair.  There was no time.  They were already on borrowed time.  Dean would never forgive him for allowing Sam to go to prison.  His mind reeled and he contemplated other options.  If he allowed Alastair to be arrested, perhaps during his trial he could find an opportunity to reach him?  Or as much as he hated to ask, he could reach out to his family and they could arrange for an incident in prison?  He was dazed and lost, he needed Dean there to hold and scent—to help center his mind and allow him to think.

Then Sam was in front of him saying his name and he looked up into warm, hazel eyes.  So different and so similar to Dean’s.

“Tell me what to do.  Right now.  Tell me what to do to keep Dean safe from this psychopath.”  His voice was solid.  Warm and low, also so different and yet so similar to Dean’s.  They had the same accent.  Cas wanted to soak in it.  Right.  Keeping Sam safe would have to be step number two.  Keeping Dean safe was the first task.  He felt his power and control return, his shoulders relaxing and his resolve taking hold.

“Tie a rope as a tourniquet around each of his wrists as tight as you can.”  Then he turned and walked over to the table Alastair had left sitting next to the bench where Dean had been strapped.  Several surgical style cutting instruments lay there including a small bloody scalpel that had no doubt been used to cut into Dean’s skin.  Perhaps tracing more words his enemy had hoped would shame and denigrate Dean.  He looked over the items and picked up a large cutting tool.  It was shaped just like the scalpel but was much larger, with the blade portion extending about two inches long.

He turned back to see Sam tugging tightly on a strong rope around Alastair’s right wrist.  The left wrist already bore a tightly knotted rope and the beast’s hand was already turning white below it.

When Sam rose, he turned to Castiel, looking calm and composed, though his scent betrayed a myriad of emotions—disgust, hatred, rage, sorrow, a little fear.

“Do you have your phone?” Cas asked.

Sam nodded, reaching into his pocket.

“Call 9-1-1 and request an ambulance.  Let them know it is an emergency, that there is risk of someone bleeding out.”

This time it was less of a surprise when Sam didn’t balk, just began to dial immediately.  Cas walked up to his enemy and stood before him.  He thought about how Dean had looked that night when Cas had found him in his kitchen.  About all he had endured for seven days at the hospital.  About all the counseling he had been through and would go through in the future.  About the words etched in his stomach and how he had almost fallen into this monster’s trap—had started to believe those things about himself.  He let the rage come back and fill his mind, he welcomed the red flare that began to shape around the edges of his vision.

As Sam stopped talking and hung up the phone, Cas finally heard what he had been dreading.  Tires on the gravel drive outside.  But it didn’t matter.  They were too late.  He moved swiftly then.  And his body was already relaxed and at ease, even as he reached forward with his left hand and took hold of Alastair’s flaccid dick and tugged it away from his body.  His mind and body felt the comfort and satisfaction of finally being released to do what he needed to protect his omega.  His right hand sliced forward and down and as Alastair’s body writhed and wriggled against the cross, Cas dropped his so-called manhood to the floor. 

He reached up and ripped the cloth from Alastair’s mouth, shouting roughly to Sam, “Hold his head!”  Vaguely he heard his enemy screaming, but it was muffled, buried underneath his own heartbeat.  Under his resolve.  Sam’s swiftness almost startled him as the tall alpha swept around him and grabbed Alastair’s forehead and jaw like a vice.  Cas reached into his mouth and tugged his tongue forward as roughly as he could.  It would be enough.  Then he cut roughly through Alastair’s tongue, leaving a ragged, bleeding stump.  He released both hands, letting the tongue and the scalpel drop.

Then he reached to his belt and pulled out his machete.  He looked over at Sam, still holding Alastair’s head, his mouth a bloody wet mess, screaming raggedly, but beginning to choke on blood.

“Let go,” Castiel said and Sam did.  His enemy’s head dropped forward and a string of blood ran to the floor.  “It’s time to go.  Be careful not to startle the detectives.  They’ll be armed.”  Sam nodded and moved toward the stairs.  Cas took a step back, giving himself room to swing, and then pulled his arm back high and swung forward in a powerful arc, removing Alastair’s right hand in a single, clean slice.  He tugged his machete out of the cross’s wooden beam, and raised it a second time, swung and watched Alastair’s left hand fall to the ground.

He felt the last bit of tension in his shoulders dissolve and he tugged the machete out of the wood and turned to follow Sam.  As he reached the stairs he looked back one more time and saw his enemy, head dropped forward, blood dripping, and he finally felt satisfied.  He knew that prison lay before him now, that he would have to pay for this decision, but all he could see were Dean’s green eyes and Dean’s smile.  He was worth it.

*               *               *

Benny pulled up behind the old pickup truck and regarded it, the little Prius and the van parked haphazardly in front of the little house.  He reached to his holster as he stepped out of his car.  He was just raising the gun when a tall young man, in jeans and flannel, stepped through the front door, his hands raised.  Benny raised his gun.

“Stop.”

The young man stopped.  Benny moved forward between the Prius and the pickup.  The young man’s clothes were spattered here and there with blood.

“Step forward and put your hands on the hood of the car.”  He gestured with his weapon to the Prius.

The young man stepped forward slowly and leaned forward, placing his palms on the hood of the Toyota.

“Who are you?”

“That’s Dean’s brother, Sam.”  Benny swung his head back to the house to see Castiel stepping through the door.  Sprays of blood showered his button-down shirt and he was holding a machete loosely in one hand that was covered in wet, dripping blood.  He looked like some crazy suburban version of Rambo. 

Benny felt his legs shake as he stared at Castiel.   _ Oh god. _  Dean must be lost.  He was too late.  Castiel must have been too late.  They must all have been too late.  Benny felt his stomach roiling and tasted bile in his throat.  All because he had let Ruby take Dean.  His fault.  All of this.  His fault.  Dean gone and Castiel and Dean’s brother going to prison.  Benny lowered his gun.  “Is Dean…?”

“Dean is safe.  He’s on his way home.”  Castiel strode forward slowly as he spoke.  Benny staggered and leaned against the pickup.  Dean was safe.  Alive.  Not dead.  Castiel had been in time.  But…

“Your suspect is in the basement in need of medical assistance.  You may wish to take me into custody.”  Cas stopped moving when he was in front of Benny.

Benny’s mind was whirling.  So he was too late to save Dean.  But it hadn’t mattered.  He was alive.  And apparently so was Alastair.  Despite the fact that Castiel was standing in front of him with the most wicked looking machete he’d ever seen soaked in what certainly must be Alastair’s blood.  “He’s still alive?”

“For now,” Castiel said.  His voice sounded strange.  Low and calm.  Tired.  “We called for an ambulance, but I am not certain it will arrive in time.”

“Was he alone?  Is anyone else here?”

“He was alone.  There’s no one else.”

Benny nodded and lowered his weapon.  Walker would be right behind him, with backup.  It wasn’t too late for him to do something for Dean.  To try to make up for all the horrible, selfish, sick decisions he’d been making. 

He turned to the incredibly tall young man arched down over the little Prius and said, “Mr. Winchester, it’s alright.  You can relax.”  As Sam pulled upright and stepped back, Benny turned back to Castiel and tucked his gun in its holster.  He reached forward with his right hand and nodded down at the machete.  “Give me that.”

Castiel stared at him for a moment then reached forward, extending the handle of the bloody machete toward Benny.  Benny wrapped his hand around the handle.  He looked at Castiel.  “You need to go.”

Castiel tilted his head and said, “Detective, I believe you should arrest me.”

“Castiel—” Sam said, starting to object.

But Benny was first.  “Mr. Novak, I believe you have an omega waiting for you at home.”

Castiel shook his head and sighed as if exasperated with Benny.  “You don’t understand—the injuries are…not appropriate with simply subduing someone.”

Benny raised his eyebrows.  “Novak, I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but you must think I’m an idiot if you thought you had to explain that to me.  I’m taking this one.  Go home.”

“What…no, Benny…you can’t…I…”

Benny watched the exhausted looking alpha flounder and stutter and would have enjoyed it in any other context.

“I know what I’m doing.  This case was my responsibility.   _ Dean _ was my responsibility, too.  This…what happened here…”   _ Was my fault, _ he said silently to himself.  He was afraid if he told Castiel about the choice he made that the alpha wouldn’t leave.  Would stay to punish Benny as well and would end up in prison after all.  And this was Benny’s chance to make up for all of his drinking, for all of his mistakes, for letting Ruby take Dean out of that house.  He could save Castiel.  For Dean.  He could take responsibility for whatever Castiel had done—for whatever horrible thing had happened in that house.  And Castiel could go home and take care of Dean.  Finish building that life together that Benny had watched them begin.

“Novak, if anyone is going to prison for this, it’s me.  I’m a detective.  Whatever happened may be excessive force, but it’ll still be a hell of a lot less time for me than it will be for you.  Especially in light of your…background.”  He said it pointedly.  Wanting Castiel to hear the implication.  Hear that being connected to the Russian mob wasn’t going to help lessen his sentence any.  “I owe Dean this.  If I’d done my job properly neither of you would be here and Dean would have been safe at home with you today.”

“No, Detective.  I can’t—”

Benny had never felt so desperate.  He felt that everything good in him—everything he had always thought defined him—rested on this moment.  If he got Castiel and Dean’s brother home safe to him, he could almost make up for the mortal danger Dean had been in—for whatever suffering Dean had born today at the hands of that psychopath.   _ Damn Castiel’s moral righteousness! _

Benny stared at the ground, then over to his left at the tall, young man, who was staring at them both uncertainly.  He had one last play.  “If you don’t go right now, Castiel, I will arrest both you and Sam and charge both of you with every crime I can think of.  As equal participants.”

Cas’s eyebrows raised and Benny would have placed money on the moment Castiel recognized both his ploy and analyzed the likely reason for Benny’s determination.  He could practically feel the author reading the guilt on his face or in his scent.  But it didn’t matter.  As long as it worked.  “I mean it, Castiel.  You will leave now and I will handle this situation, or else both you and the young Mr. Winchester will be going to prison together for a very long time.  I’m certain you don’t want Dean to go through that loss.”

Benny and Castiel stood eye to eye for a minute, staring at each other, each willing the other to back down—to not take this blame.  Benny was starting to panic and about to confess his guilt to Castiel when Dean’s brother was suddenly there, grasping Castiel’s forearm and saying, “Come on, Castiel.  Dean needs you.”  He pulled and Castiel just stared into Benny’s eyes and then suddenly Castiel moved, let the young man drag him over around the front of the Prius.

Benny watched Sam reach through the car window, pick up what must have been the keys and then press them into Castiel’s hand as he opened the car door.  Castiel let Sam hustle him into the driver’s seat and close the door behind him.  Benny stepped around to the front of the Prius as Sam slid past him into the pickup truck.  Benny’s eyes were on Castiel’s wide stare, still focused on Benny through the windshield.

“I owe Dean this, Castiel.  Just…make him happy.”  He’d said it quietly.  He didn’t think Castiel could have heard him from inside the car.  But the alpha’s eyes seemed to sparkle a brighter blue for a moment as he put the car into reverse and then he was turning, and the vehicles were both pulling around and heading back down the driveway.

Benny thought he could hear a siren coming in the distance now, and he turned and headed into the little house.  He had some work to do to make sure his own fingerprints covered the crime scene, incriminating him at least as much as Castiel and Sam. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I feel this ending may not be as rage-ful as some of you might have liked, but what can I say? It's the way I see Cas. But I seriously do welcome anyone who would like to write their own version of Cas and Sam (and heck, include Charlie and Bobby if you want) getting some serious revenge on Alastair. I had a lot of drafts and some were full rage stuff, but in the end I didn't feel like they fit. But if anyone wants to exercise their anger and write alternate versions of this chapter, I'm delighted to see them. Or just share in the comments maybe what you would like Cas to do to Alastair. It's cool. I won't judge. :-) 
> 
> There will be a few more chapters of post-climax stuff and almost certainly some ending porn. I may have underestimated the chapters, so it may go to 62 or 63. But it may be several days before I get anything posted as I'm going out of town for a few days for work. But I wanted to make sure to at least get this one posted.


	60. Sixty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various conversations and such in the immediate aftermath of the attack and rescue.

Dean felt lost.  He didn’t understand why everything was so hazy.  He kept falling asleep and waking up again.  He wasn’t sure what was real—when he was awake and when he was dreaming.  The Man—Alastair—had been with him.  Had tried to hurt him.  Then he had melted like lava or a Nazi in Raiders of the Lost Ark.  He thought Cas had been there—holding him and telling him he was safe and they would be together.  But now Cas was gone. 

Where was Cas’s sister?  He’d been with her—wait, no, not his sister, must not have been.  But he was still in the car.  He could feel the bounce and whirr of the road.  His vision was fuzzy, but he could scent it.  He was in Cas’s car now.  But where was Cas?  He tried to blink—get his eyes to clear, but he was so tired.  He thought he heard Bobby’s gruff voice saying something about home.  And Sam.  And thought he heard Charlie’s light laugh.  He was definitely dreaming.  But Cas’s car smelled nice.  Like peppermint.

Then he was in Cas’s bed and their combined scents were everywhere around him.  Dreaming or dying—he felt like it didn’t matter, just as long as he could stay cocooned in this perfect smell—in a world comprised of he and Cas together.

Dr. Mills was here now.  It didn’t make any sense.  But she was folding his casted arm over his chest just as she had at the hospital and asking him to squeeze her fingers.  He tried, but he was so tired.  She didn’t look frustrated, though.  The furrow at her brow was something else—concern or sadness.  He tried to tell her not to worry, but she shushed him and told him not to try to talk.  And then the haze came for him again.  But the haze smelled like a crackling fireplace and licorice mixed with something sweet and warm like apple pie.  He thought of Cas saying he smelled like cinnamon and wondered if the other smell was him.

*               *               *

Bobby had reported that Dr. Mills said Dean would recover completely.  Dean had a fresh cast on his arm and another expected eight weeks to spend in it—something they all knew wouldn’t make him happy.  But all his other injuries were superficial.  She was worried about infection and had instructed that an actual nurse should come dress his wounds to prevent it.  She had also set up an IV for Dean to rehydrate him and administer a small amount of pain medication and “something to help him sleep comfortably.”  So Castiel had just gotten off the phone with the nursing service she had recommended.

Now the four of them sat around the kitchen table like a ragtag little army after a battle.  Cas’s head was down.  He was so tired.  And he wanted to be upstairs.  With Dean.  But he knew these people—the other people who loved Dean the most—deserved to know and understand.  Deserved the chance to judge and condemn Cas’s actions if they wished.  In a way this was just a practice session for when he would soon have to tell Dean about what he had done.  He had promised not to keep any more secrets.   _ Not about this _ , Dean had said.

They still didn’t understand how Dean had ended up with Alastair.  If Benny and he had gone somewhere and been separated, or perhaps even attacked in some way that the detective had not been prepared for.

Sam had been the one who told Charlie and Bobby what Cas had done to Alastair.  Though he had been nonspecific as to who landed the actual cutting strokes, just saying “we” and “us” as if inadvertently.  Charlie had kept her face on Sam the entire time, her eyes wide and a satisfied grin starting to spread over her face as he spoke.  She didn’t seem interested in analyzing Sam’s words in detail—in looking for responsibility.  Bobby though, Cas knew that Bobby saw right through Sam’s vague language.  Right into Cas’s heart.  He could feel his nerves clenching up—preparing for Dean’s surrogate father to march upstairs and pack his son up to move him somewhere safe.  Somewhere that wasn’t the home of a murderous alpha capable of such vicious mutilation of another human being.

“So…Alastair?  We’re really calling this freakshow  _ Alastair _ ?  That’s like some dark satanic weirdo kind of shit.”  Cas looked up as Charlie spoke.  He would face them.  And then he would face Dean.  “Okay, so this Alastair…without his fucking prick and hands and tongue—he’s not going to be able to hurt anyone ever again!  Fuck.  That’s so awesome.  Holy crap, I wish I’d been there.  And just think what it’s going to be like for him in prison.  Too bad you didn’t have time to brand him with the word “rapist” or some shit.  You know what would happen to him then!  But I have a feeling that a creepy old white dude with no hands to fight back and no tongue to report anything will get some pretty delectably fabulous abuse in there.  Mmm…to be a fly on the wall…”  She sat back and took a long pull on her beer.  Charlie.  Cas thought she was so beautiful sitting there.  Bright red hair, shining smile and so comfortable with the darkest parts of herself.

Sam shook his head slightly at her, but he was smiling.  He looked tired, too.  It must have been such a shock to travel halfway around the world and arrive home to find his own brother beaten and tortured and help a stranger butcher the perpetrator.

“What’s the problem, son?”  Cas turned to Bobby, who was looking at him with…concern?   

“I…nothing.”

“Cas, Dean’s safe.  And it looks like none of us are going to prison.  If your cop friend changes—”

“He’s not my friend.”

Bobby gave him a scornful look, but just went on.  “If the  _ police _ change their minds and decide to arrest  _ any _ of us we’ll know about it when we know about it.  There’s no point borrowing trouble until then.”

“No…it’s not…if they arrest me it would be….  I’m not afraid of….  It isn’t  _ their _ judgment that…”  He sighed.  He wanted to go upstairs to Dean.  He knew how to talk to Dean.  He might stammer and babble nervously, but the words at least came out with Dean.  He already cared about Bobby and Charlie and felt a kinship with Sam born of the fire they had just gone through.  But he didn’t know them well.  Didn’t know how to ask them for what he needed.

“It’s ours,” Sam said, into the silence.  He wasn’t looking at Cas.  He was looking at the table.  “It’s our judgment he’s worried about.”

Cas stared at Sam.  His long arms were resting on the table, the fingers of one hand picking at the ridges in the surface.

“Judgment?” Charlie sputtered.  “I wanna pin a fucking medal to you guys!  For shit’s sake, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this sick fuck was never gonna let Dean go.  And if I’d been there I woulda just smashed his face in flat until he wasn’t breathing.  But that would have been way too easy!  This is soooo much better.  Gods, Cas, you can’t—” 

“We forgive you.”  Bobby’s voice, gruff and low, distracting Charlie from her diatribe.

“Wha—?”

“You did right.  Both of you.  But if you need to hear it, Cas.  Sam.  I forgive you.”

Sam’s head lifted up to stare at Bobby and Cas felt tears fall from his own eyes, matching the ones he was watching falling over Sam’s cheeks.  Then Charlie was reaching out a hand to grasp one of each of his and Sam’s and Cas felt the warm scent of family fill his kitchen.

*               *               *

“C-Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.  I’m here.  You’re home safe in bed.”

“The bell.  I…I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“I didn’t get it before, but I know now.  The bell.  It was me.”

“What bell, Dean?”

“You know, in the song.  When the bell tolls.  It was tolling for me.”

“It’s okay, Dean, you’re just dreaming.  There’s no bell.  You’re safe, we’re together and he’s never—”

“No, Cas.  Listen.  I get it.  He played that song.  And it was a message.  See?  Don’t you get it?”  Dean’s eyes were wide open, like he truly was seeing something for the first time.  But Cas still wasn’t sure if he was awake or perhaps delirious or somehow still dreaming.  “Death.  It was coming for me.  It was my last chance—my last look to the sky.  It was supposed to be the last time I’d see it.”

“Shh…Dean…just—”

“No, Cas!  Don’t you see?  He gave me time to fall in love with you.  And he thought…he thought it would break me, or break us, when he came for me again.  But it didn’t.  I didn’t break, Cas.  I thought of you, and…then you were there.”

Cas sucked in a breath, feeling that he was now the one with wide open eyes, staring enraptured at Dean as Dean’s eyes started to relax and drift again.

“Dean.  You were perfect.  I’m so proud of you.”

*               *               *

When Cas woke up in the middle of the night, he saw the voicemail flag on his phone.  He slid out from next to Dean and as he left the room he pressed the button and listened.

“Castiel.  It’s Benny.  Look, my attorney got me an extra call and I just needed to make sure you understand.  So you won’t change your mind and come try to confess or anything.  It’s my fault.  I don’t know if Dean’s already told you, but he got a call he thought was from your sister wanting to surprise you at your fan event and I saw her come pick him up.  I recognized her.  I knew her.  She was a person of interest in the investigation—someone related to Alastair.  I knew she must be planning to take Dean to him.  And I was drunk.  And desperate for a break.  So I let them leave together and followed them.  Then everything went to shit and there was an accident and I was knocked out and lost them.  It doesn’t matter why.  That’s not the point.  There’s no excuse.  You just need to know it’s my fault.  I deserve this and you should both hate me, just as long as you get it, okay?  It’s not charity—it’s justice.  I know it doesn’t matter, but I’m sorry.”

The recording ended and Cas stared at the phone in his hand.  He’d been so angry with this man.  A detective with Dean’s life in his hands.  Drinking.  Wasting himself and maybe risking the case and Dean’s life.  But now he felt numb, thinking about Benny’s words.  All his anger, Benny’s drinking, it all just seemed like background noise now.  He wasn’t sure if Benny was right or wrong about his taking the blame being just.  But he thought after a while he might feel grateful for the possibility.  For some excuse why he got to be safe at home.  With Dean.

*               *               *

Dean woke up feeling sore all over.  There was no comfortable way to lie, even in Cas’s amazingly comfortable bed.  He moved his arm and bumped the cast, groaning as he rolled slightly the other direction.  He reached with his other hand, feeling the bandages covering most of his body.

“Hey.”

Sam.  He looked over to his brother, sitting in an office chair, leaning forward, elbows on knees.  God, he looked good.

“Sam.”

“How you feeling?  Need some water?”

“Yah, sure,” Dean nodded.  “Is Cas…?”

“He’s here.  Downstairs getting something to eat for a change.  Bobby told him if he didn’t eat something he was going to pack you up and take you back to Ellen’s where an alpha with good judgment could watch over him.”

Dean let out a rough laugh.  “But he’s okay?”

“Yah, he’s fine.  We’re all fine, Dean.”  They were quiet for a minute, soaking in the pleasure of being in the same country—in the same room as each other and both safe and alive.  Then Sam reach out and rested a hand on Dean’s arm and said, “Dean, I…I’m so…”  Dean saw tears shining in his eyes.

“Is this gonna be a chick flick moment, Sammy?”

“Fuck yes, Dean!  I’m so glad you’re alive.  I don’t know what I would have done without you.  If Cas hadn’t gotten there in time and called Charlie…”  His voice trailed off.

“So…you were there?”

“Yah.”  He started talking, explaining how Charlie had called him and then backtracking when Dean asked to explain how Cas had come home to find the house empty and called Charlie.

“And Anna…she wasn’t Cas’s sister after all.”

“No.  That detective, Benny, he told Cas that she was related to Alastair, was working for him.  Cas figures she was probably coerced.”

Dean nodded.  “But he’s definitely in jail and going to stay there, right?  So he shouldn’t be able to hurt her or anything?”

“Umm…well, she might be in some trouble with the police.  But I don’t really think you need to worry about Alastair being able to hurt anyone ever again whether he’s in jail or not.”

“What?  Is he dead?”

“No.  Just…incapacitated.  I don’t know if I’m really supposed to tell you about it.  I think Cas wants to.  He said something about a promise to you.”

Dean smiled and felt a surge of something warm skate down his spine and all the way down to his toes.  He looked up at Sam.  “So what do you think?”

Sam’s eyebrows pinched.  “Huh?”

Dean chuckled.  “Articulate.  Of Cas?”

Instead of clearing, Sam’s brows furrowed even further.  “Since when do you need my approval?  You’ve never asked me what I thought of anyone before.”

“Well,” Dean shrugged, “I’m asking now, I guess.”

“My uh…experience with him may be a little skewed.  We haven’t really gotten to talk much.  He’s pretty much been in here with you every minute until now.  I should probably spend more time with him now that your life isn’t in mortal danger.  He’s a little…intimidating in full alpha mode.”  Dean raised his eyebrows.  Nice move, Cas, he thought, knowing his little brother was far from easily intimidated.  “But Bobby and Charlie both clearly approve, so that’s a pretty good endorsement.”

“Charlie’s here?  I thought I dreamt hearing her voice.”

“Yeah, she’s here.  I think she needs to see you awake and talking before she’ll go home.”

“And how soon are you going back?”

“To Africa?  I don’t know.  Not for a while.  Maybe in a month.  Right now I want to spend some time with you.  Get to know your new  _ boyfriend _ .”  Dean heard the little brother teasing tone of voice, but let it go by without comment.  “Dean, I…I can’t believe I didn’t understand how bad that attack was.  Everything you were dealing with.  You should have said.”

“Sam…”

“No, Dean.  Look, I’m not trying to start a fight.  But I wish for once in your life you would listen to me.  Try to look at it the other way around—how you would feel if it had been me and I hid so much from you.”

“I wasn’t hiding—”

“Yes, you  _ were _ .  You were protecting everyone else at your own expense.  Maybe combined with protecting your own pride or ego or something, too.  I don’t know.  But that isn’t what family should be, Dean.  All my life you taught me to trust you and that there was never any risk in sharing the full truth—that lies and hiding were the problem.  Well, you really need to start practicing what you preach.  I’ve always known your sex life and lovers were all mostly off limits subjects and I’m not an idiot, I know as an omega that some of your experiences must have been pretty shitty and maybe downright abusive.  I shouldn’t have let you get away with it this long.  But I did.  So it’s my fault, too.  But we’re brothers.  Shit, Dean, without you taking care of me I’d…   It doesn’t matter.  The point is that you have to let your family take care of you sometimes, too.   Even the great Dean Winchester needs a little help and support sometimes.  And…”  Sam’s voice broke and Dean watched him close his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.  Gathering himself.  Dean recognized the gesture—he did it himself sometimes.  “…I wish you would trust me for that, Dean.  To be help and support.  I’m glad you had Cas, but I’m your alpha too, in a way.   And I just want to be there for you.  If you would only give me a chance.”  By the last sentence, the tears were rolling down Sam’s cheeks and when he finished he let his head drop as if drained from the effort.

Dean felt a hollow pit in his stomach.  “Shit, Sam.  I…  Look, I’m sorry.  It isn’t you.  You know I just…  It’s hard.”

Sam looked up.  “I know it’s hard.  And I know the reasons why.  I know you have to work all the time every day as an omega to not be seen as weaker and to not let yourself be weaker.  I know you don’t want the people you love to worry or be unhappy.  I know you spent your whole life protecting me and that’s no easy habit to break.”

Sam pulled his hand back and sat back in his chair.  He wiped his cheeks.  “You told me on the phone that when you were in the hospital and Cas wanted to take care of you, you asked him why he was there and he asked you for permission to stay and take care of you.”

Dean nodded.  His heart pounded a bit at the recollection of Cas’s steadfast presence and sensitive, cautious approach.  He’d been like a zookeeper dealing with a traumatized animal.

“Well, I’m asking you.  To let me in and let me be there.  For you.  From now on.”  Dean’s eyes flew up to his brother’s face.  Sam.  So serious.  The person with the biggest heart he knew.  Who growing up had rarely asked for anything.  So much so that when he did ask for anything Dean had always known it must be pretty damn important to him. 

A heartbeat passed.  Then another.  Then ten.  Then Dean nodded.  “I’ll try.”


	61. Sixty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean talk.

The next time Dean woke up, Cas’s arms were around him and he could feel the alpha’s breath on the back of his neck.  He was hot, and could feel his bandages shifting with his sweat and stinging his wounds, but he still didn’t want to move.  He let himself drift for a while, enjoying the warmth and safety of home.  Of Cas.  He could hear muffled sounds of activity below them in the house and knew Bobby, Sam and Charlie were all probably still there somewhere.  He wanted to see them, wanted to spend time with them, but part of him also wanted them to leave—wanted to curl up in this bed with Cas for days and get back to where they had been.  Learning each other’s bodies, desires and needs.  Learning how to live together.  What they might end up being together.

When he felt Cas shift and then press a kiss to the back of his neck, he finally rolled over to ease the friction on his body.  After Sam left his room earlier he had managed to make his own way to the bathroom and had surveyed the damage Alastair had done.  Almost all of his body was torn up either from the whip or the knife.  The only clear areas were his face, neck and stomach.  Still, he felt lucky.  It could have been so much worse.  It  _ had _ been so much worse the first time.  He settled somewhat on his left side and reached an arm out to touch Cas’s chest, idly stroking and watching as Cas slowly woke up.

“So it really was you appearing on the stairs.  I thought you were a dream.”

Cas blinked slowly.  He looked tired and sad.  “I’m sorry I was so late.”

“No, Cas,” Dean said, “you were right on time.”  He smiled and felt rewarded when Cas smiled back a little.  They were quiet for a couple minutes, then Dean asked, “So what are you afraid to tell me?”

Cas frowned.  “I…Did Sam tell you…”

“Sam didn’t say anything about what happened after you got there.”

Cas nodded slowly.  “Dean, I...even without our promise…I feel…”  Cas swallowed and Dean could smell the worry and fear drifting into his scent.  He reached out to take the alpha’s hand in his and squeezed gently.  Cas looked down at their hands, then back up to Dean’s eyes.  “You deserve to know the truth.  And then if you feel uncomfortable here with me, I will understand if you would prefer to move back home or go back with Bobby.  You’re safe now, and I will still provide nursing and any other care you need for your recovery.”

As Cas fell into his nervous, babbling mode, Dean felt a muddy, confused feeling in his mind and a strange twisting in his gut.  What was Cas so worried about?  Alastair was in jail and everyone had made it out safely.  His heard was starting to pound a little and he needed...something.  He reached out with his casted hand and pressed Cas’s chest until he rolled onto his back, then snuggled up against Cas’s side, ignoring the stinging, chafing sensation as his cuts rubbed against their bandages and up against Cas and the sheets.  He laid his head on Cas’s shoulder and tilted up to Cas’s neck to inhale deeply of the alpha’s scent.  There.  Underneath the worry and fear it was still Cas.  Peppermint and fireplace.  He breathed in and out for a few minutes and let his cast rest across Cas’s stomach, his fingers idly tracing patterns on Cas’s chest.

“Cas, just tell me.”

*               *               *

It felt like marching before a firing squad.  Or worse.  How would Dean feel about him when he knew what violence Cas was truly capable of?  And when he knew that Cas was letting Benny take the fall for the evil he had done?  As his body stiffened beneath Dean, Cas felt Dean curl tighter against his side and continue to inhale his scent.  Dean’s body and scent were both relaxed, so much different than after his first attack.  There was a little bit of pain, but Cas could scent no fear from Dean.  He knew it was because Dean thought the only monster in his life was now safely behind bars.  And his stomach was roiling with the trauma of wondering what would happen when Dean knew Cas was a monster, too.

But he’d promised.  And even if he hadn’t, Dean deserved the truth.  Everything.

So Cas spoke.  He told Dean about getting home to find Dean missing and neither he nor Benny answering their phones.  He didn’t mention the complete panic that swept over his body and how alpha rage had filled him, making it impossible to see anything but red.  He told Dean how he had called Charlie to get the location of Alastair’s property she had found, calling the police station and heading out on his own.  He didn’t mention how his mind filled with images of Dean being tortured, raped and abused—of getting there too late and finding Dean dead.  He told Dean about arriving at the scene first, seeing Dean tied up in the basement, and rushing in.  He didn’t mention how much blood Dean was covered with and how pale he looked, as if death already had a grip on him.  He told Dean about fighting Alastair to unconsciousness and then hearing Dean’s voice calling his name.  He didn’t mention that he had been about to strap Alastair down and torture him to death slowly when Dean’s voice cut through the noise in his head. 

Dean remembered none of it.  He said that he could see Cas flying down the stairs and launching bodily at Alastair, but it still felt like a dream, not something witnessed in real life.  And he couldn’t remember anything after that.

“You asked if I was real and you…”  Cas’s voice cracked and he licked his lips and swallowed roughly.  “You talked about something you had to do before you died.  I was afraid you were…giving up, but I didn’t know how long Alastair would be unconscious so I…I left you there…and…”

“Cas, it’s okay.  You’re doing great.”  Cas startled for a moment and then felt the weight of Dean’s words—his idle praise—soak into his skin.  Words he had said to Dean so many times.  He could feel the muscles in his shoulders loosen a little and realized he felt stronger.  “You can do it.  Just tell me.”

“He had a cross there so I tied him to it.  I thought I needed to be sure he couldn’t move if he awoke.”  He was back there in that basement, feeling the sickness in his stomach, the worry still there that Dean wasn’t entirely safe.  Not yet.  Then the noise from above.  “Then there was a noise from the first floor…someone was there…so I told you not to move and I drew my gun…”

“Wait, what?”

“It’s okay.  It turned out it was Charlie—”

“You had a gun?”

“Yes.  I had taken weapons with me.  I wasn’t sure if Alastair had accomplices and I knew I might arrive before the police—”

“Yeah, no, I get that, I just…you never struck me as an NRA type.”

“I’m not.  But…my family are.  I’ll tell you more about them, but…for now let’s just say I was raised to know how to use a firearm.”

“Uh huh.  Okay.  And you have some serious fighting skills.  Definitely looking forward to those stories sometime.  But later is fine.  So you pulled a gun on my best friend and then…”

Cas couldn’t help smiling a little.  Jesus, but Dean was understanding.  “She stayed with you so I could check the house and ensure there was no one else there, then she ran out to her car to get some pain medication for you.  Alastair was awake then and…he…”  This was it.  He needed to tell Dean what Alastair had said—needed Dean to have all the information, to possibly understand why he had done what he had.  But Dean had already suffered enough of that monster’s verbal abuse.  How could he add any more?

“Cas, come on.  It’s already over.  You’re just catching me up on what everyone else already knows.  Whatever went on, I’m here.  We’re all here.  Safe and sound.”

“He…wanted me to know that he wasn’t done.  That he would come after you again.”  Dean didn’t react to the words, but Cas felt his own body shiver slightly and he buried his fingers in Dean’s hair.  “He said even if he went to prison he would send someone else or come after you when he got out someday.  He said he would make sure you suffered and died with his face the last thing you ever saw.”  Dean still hadn’t reacted at all, but Cas pressed his nose to the top of Dean’s head and inhaled deeply.

Then Dean nodded slightly and said, “Yeah.  That’s not really a huge surprise.  That guy has a serious screw loose.”

“Dean, I…I couldn’t let that happen.  I told Charlie to take you home.  I wanted to be with you, to take you home myself and hold you and never let you go, but…”  His voice cracked again and he could feel tears were welling up in his eyes.  The desperation to protect Dean was still so visceral, he didn’t know how to make Dean understand.

“Cas,” Dean said, his voice calm and cool, like iced tea on a sweltering day.  “We’re good.  Don’t worry about explaining, okay?  Just tell me what happened.”

He breathed Dean in again then continued.  “We took you out to the car and then Bobby and Sam pulled up.  I hadn’t realized they were on their way.  Charlie hadn’t had a chance to tell me she called Sam after we talked.  We talked about getting you to a doctor—they agreed to bringing you to my house and letting me call Dr. Mills to treat you here.  When I said I was going to stay behind…I supposed they all knew I wanted to ensure Alastair would no longer be a threat to you.  Bobby suggested that he and Charlie take you home and Sam stay with me.  I…well, I didn’t know how to argue with Bobby.”

Dean actually chuckled at that.  “I know how to argue.  It just never works anyway, so there’s really no point.”  He paused and then tilted his head up to look at Cas.  “So out with it.  You’ve taken your sweet time getting here, so you may as well say it.  Sam said Alastair’s not dead, so I know you didn’t kill him, so you may as well come out with it.”

Cas looked into Dean’s leaf green eyes and said it.  “I removed his penis, tongue and hands.”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly.  But he didn’t pull away and he didn’t flinch.  His brows pulled together a bit after a second, and he asked, “You…removed…?”

“Yes.  Cut off.”

“Uh huh.  With what exactly?”

Cas felt his own brows furrowing at that.  It wasn’t what he’d expected.  “A small knife from Alastair’s…collection.  And a machete for the hands.”

“A machete.”

Cas nodded.

“He just happened to have a machete in the basement?”

“No, it was…I brought it.”

Dean whistled.  “Well, I wouldn’t have picked that out on my bingo card.  Okay.  So then what?”

“As we came out, Benny was arriving.  I didn’t know it at the time…I thought he was just feeling guilty about how much he’d been drinking and that it had interfered with the case and his ability to keep you safe, but he was also feeling responsible because he had recognized the woman who had impersonated my sister, and suspected she was taking you to Alastair.  He had intended to follow you and arrest Alastair when she tried to turn you over to him.  But he was involved in an accident and lost you.”

Dean whispered a low “Oh, shit.  Benny.”  He tucked his head back to Cas’s chest, inhaling deeply.

“Upon seeing us and hearing that you were already safe and Alastair was alive but injured in the basement…I think he knew already what I’d done.  At least, generally.  He ordered Sam and I to leave and insisted that he would take responsibility for Alastair’s…condition.  We argued, but he threatened to prosecute Sam as an equal participant with me and I…”

“Cas, it’s okay.”

“We did what Benny wanted.  We left before any other police presence arrived.  It’s my understanding from a brief message Benny left that he has been arrested, but I haven’t had the opportunity to learn more about his condition.  According to Dr. Mills, Alastair is in the hospital in critical condition and expected to survive and face trial for the two murders as well as the two attacks on you.”

“Wow.  So are you like…the angel of poetic justice or something?”

Cas twisted uncomfortably.  Dean sounded so casual.  He didn’t understand how to take it.

And it was as if Dean could sense it.  “Sorry, Cas, I just…it’s pretty fucking appropriate in my book.”

They were quiet for a minute.  Cas soaked in the sensation of Dean, still tucked against his side, his head beneath Cas’s hand, the weight of his casted arm resting on Cas’s stomach, his scent still smelling of comfort and safety and relaxation.

Then Dean’s voice rose up, a little more serious and quiet, this time.  “Thank you, Cas.  For Sam.  For not letting him…I’m just…I’m glad you were there first.  I know he’s strong and tough, but he’s still my little brother.”

Cas didn’t know what to say.  He understood.  But saying ‘you’re welcome’ would have felt like he was congratulating himself for dismembering someone.  So he nodded and pressed his lips to the top of Dean’s head.  He hoped it would communicate enough.

After a few minutes, Dean said, “So…that’s it, right?  That’s what you were so worried I might want to dump you over when I found out?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Well, nice try, but not a chance.  You realize I’m injured again and going to require lots of nursing and time in bed to get better.  There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell I’m letting you out of even one minute of fetching and carrying for me and massaging oil into my sore muscles and putting lotion on all my cuts.  So you better just get used to me being here.”

As Dean spoke, Cas felt his entire body relax and thrill at the same time.  A tingling, electric sensation of joy and pleasure moved up from his toes all the way through his legs and spine up to settle somewhere in his neck.  At the same time, the tension that had been holding his muscles taut and stretched loosened and his whole body felt as if it were melting into the bed.  He was elated and exhausted and wanted to sleep for a month with Dean’s body against his and Dean’s scent filling the room.

“Dean…”  He’d been going to say something, but as he bent to look at Dean, smiling up at him, it was suddenly gone.  So he said the only thing he could think of.  “I love you.”

“I know,” Dean said, smirking up at Cas, “now shut up so I can get some sleep.”


	62. Sixty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just all our different boys talking.

The day was perfect—sunny and bright, with light clouds drifting by now and then for shade and a sweet breeze cooling the back yard.  Dean was manning the grill, partly because sitting was still uncomfortable even after several days of healing.  He was doing well overall and already was free from bandages on most of his legs and arms, but his back and ass were slowest to heal as they had both been subject to the worst treatment and were hardest to heal with sitting, sleeping and clothes all disrupting the process.  But he was in high spirits today and wasn’t about to let his dwindling pain ruin it.

Bobby was still over at his house apparently finishing up the last of his restoration work in Dean’s bedroom and should be back to claim his reward steak any time.  He looked over the grill to where Cas and Sam were standing at the back fence line talking and pointing at something in the woods behind their houses.  The two had been getting along well, though Dean noted it was a sort of subdued relationship.  He saw them meet eyes and just nod at each other a lot.  It was as if what they’d been through with Alastair had bound them together through some kind of shared trauma—something that they didn’t talk about but somehow still built a sort of shared understanding.  It was nice to see them talking, and about something mundane for a change.  He could tell from these days that Sam had been visiting that the two would likely get along well as long, though their relationship would probably always be colored by the experience of their first meeting.

A loud rattling of the side gate and a shout of “Hey, is this where the party is?” came from the east side of the house and Dean turned to see an average height man, with short dark hair in jeans and a rather rumpled striped button down shirt coming around the corner.  He approached Dean with a smile and his hand out, saying “So you’re the man who has my little brother lost in a romantic daze lately.”  He made no effort to hide it as he eyed Dean up and down, one eyebrow raised.   _ Gabriel. _

He took the man’s hand and shook it firmly, eyeing him pointedly in return.  Then he leaned over to the cooler, pulled out a beer and tossed it to Cas’s brother.  “And you must be the brother that makes Cas sigh every time he mentions you.”

Gabriel laughed and twisted his beer open.  “Yep, that’s me.”  He turned around and seeing Cas and Sam where they had turned and started slowly heading back to the house, he coughed roughly, choking a bit on his beer.  “Who’s that tall drink of water?”  He eyed Sam as if looking at a dessert tray and trying to decide where to start.

“That’s my brother, Sam.”

Dean watched Gabriel as he in turn watched Sam and Cas approaching.  He seemed unable to tear his eyes away, and Dean looked as well.  He had to admit that Sam made an appealing figure, tall and broad, clearly fit and strong.  He felt an odd swell of pride in his gut, feeling a bit embarrassed to be proud of his little brother’s good looks.

When the pair neared, Cas smiled softly at Dean and then let Gabriel pull him into a brief, tight hug.  Cas introduced Sam and Gabriel stared up at him, asking something about Sam’s work in Africa.  Dean could have sworn he saw Gabriel actually licking his lips. 

“Is your brother into alphas,” Dean asked Cas lowly.

“Gabriel is…rather hard to pin down.  He has an eye for the extraordinary.”  Dean looked at Cas, not sure how to take that, then looked at his brother and thought Cas had a point.  Dean had to admit Sam was something special—outrageously smart, altruistic, sensitive and handsome to boot.  Gabriel proved to be earnestly interested in Sam’s project, though, and the two fell into a serious conversation, pulling up chairs at the patio table just as Bobby came out the kitchen door. 

Half an hour later they were all settled around the table digging into Dean’s steaks and Dean couldn’t remember when he’d ever felt happier.  He was surprised by how much he liked Gabriel, who had terrific taste in movies and television shows.  They talked for ten minutes about Dr. Sexy before Sam interrupted to ask Gabriel something about his job, that Dean didn’t understand at all.  Something about marketing and liaisons.  What the hell?

“Well, I think your house is pretty much back in shape now,” Bobby said to Dean, pulling his attention away from Sam and Gabriel.

“That’s great, Bobby.  I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No thanks needed.  We’re family, and I expect you to come up to the house and do the same for me when I need it.  So, have you thought about what you’re gonna do with the house?”

Dean looked over at Cas.  He was watching Dean thoughtfully, but said nothing.  “Um…I don’t know.  I might just stay with Cas, but even if I didn’t, I don’t think I’d really want to live there again after….”

Bobby grunted.  “Well, I know I wouldn’t want to if I was you.”

Dean felt relieved at Bobby’s support.  “Yah, so I was thinking of selling it.  But I’m not in any rush.”

“Well, I think she’s in good shape for sale whenever you are ready.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”  He meant more than just for his work on the house.

“Well, you can pay me back by coming up to visit Ellen soon and bringing Cas here with you.  She’s frustrated as hell she couldn’t get away to come meet him herself.”

“I will make sure that we come to visit Ellen and her daughter very soon,” Cas offered Bobby seriously and Dean hid his grin at Cas’s sweet sincerity behind his beer.

*               *               *

Later that night as Gabriel and Dean argued about the Star Wars prequels—not about whether they were bad, mind you, but about what exactly was the worst thing about them—Sam and Cas sat quietly on the couch, watching the spectacle.

“Cas, I…I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something and haven’t quite managed to figure out how,” Sam ventured, turning in his seat a bit to face the other alpha.

“Of course, Sam,” Cas offered, shifting as well to give Sam his full attention.

“I want to thank you for all you’ve done to care for my brother.  He doesn’t like to accept help and I’m not sure if he would have allowed any of the rest of us to do so much.”

_ Tell me about it! _  Cas smiled a little and nodded.  “It was not easy at first for Dean to accept my assistance and frankly I don’t think he would have allowed me to do as much if Detective Lafitte had not advised him to stay with an alpha.  I think he was torn then between wanting to refuse help and not wanting to be seen as a problem or create more work for the police.”

Sam chuckled lightly.  “I also…I want you to know…what you did for Dean…and for me…with Alastair….  There is nothing more important in my life than my brother Dean and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for him—”

“Sam, there is no need—”  Cas had never seen the articulate and always casual seeming Sam so tongue tied.

“No Cas, please let me finish.”  Cas nodded slowly and closed his mouth.

“Cas, I know what your actions saved me from having to do and….  I didn’t understand everything that was happening at the time, but now I know how difficult the decision was that you made under pressure from Detective Lafitte.  I have to admit I was a little…concerned at first by how collected you seemed that day and how swiftly you acted.”  Sam’s voice shifted a little, sounding almost sheepish, as he continued.  “I actually had intended to investigate your background—I was…well, a little worried that you might present a whole additional kind of danger for Dean.  I…well, it turned out I didn’t have to do that.  You may have guessed that our friend Charlie had already done that after her first visit here.  She’s a lot like the rest of us—we can all be a bit over protective of each other and even though she adores you and wanted you to be as good as you seemed—she was…we were all a bit surprised by Dean’s moving in with you and becoming close to you so quickly.  Dean just…doesn’t do that.”

“Sam, I have lived next to Dean for several years and I…have the impression he has always had a very…active romantic life.”

Sam laughed out loud at that.  “Cas, that’s just the point.  Dean has a lot of sex, but Dean doesn’t get close.  To anyone.  Almost ever.  Especially another alpha.  Anyway, Charlie and I just wanted to be up front about it.  She checked you out.  She found out some stuff about your family background.  And that was all she found.  So between that and spending time here, getting to know you and getting to see you with Dean…  God, I’m afraid this sounds really condescending.”

Cas reached out and tapped Sam’s leg with a couple fingers, hoping it was a reassuring gesture.  “Please, Sam, go on.”

“Well,  I just…wanted you to know that….  Well, just thank you, I guess.  For everything.”

Cas felt a weird discomfort in his shoulders.  He didn’t deserve any thanks.  “Sam, no thanks are—”

“And I’m really glad my brother finally gave you a chance.  I’ve never seen Dean so happy before.  And this is just days after being tortured a second time.  If it’s any sign of how good you are for him I can’t wait to see him after six months with you.”  Now Sam was smiling as he spoke, clearly on firmer ground.  And Cas felt his stomach drift up and lodge somewhere in his throat.   _ Sam thinks I make Dean happy.  Sam thinks we’ll be together in six months!  _  He felt like bouncing up and throwing himself around Sam in the tightest bear hug he could come up with. 

Instead, he nodded at Sam and offered, his voice likely betraying how affected he was by the younger Winchester’s words, “Thank you, Sam.  Your approval…is invaluable to me.  And I hope you’re right.”

*               *               *

In bed that night, Dean begged Cas to fuck him, but Cas refused as he had all week, unwilling to cause any damage to the still healing welts that striped Dean’s ass and thighs.  Dean hadn’t remembered every feeling this desperate with need outside of his heat.  He wanted Cas so badly he could almost taste the alpha’s come, and there was a sort of empty ache in his ass.  Cas just smiled gently at Dean, lay down next to him, squeezed some lube into his hand and wrapped his fist around Dean’s straining cock.  Then he leaned forward, his mouth right against Dean’s ear, and that gravelly voice started murmuring praise into Dean’s ear in time with the stroking of his hand on Dean’s cock.  He started off with long, slow pulls, rambling in Dean’s ear about odd, mundane things, how good his grilled steaks had been that day and what a good host he was for their family members.  Cas slid his hand up Dean’s cock again and then down again and again and his low, rumbling voice went on about how beautiful Dean was when he worked around the house, how his hands moved with grace and precision and how Cas loved to watch Dean run his hands over the surface of his Baby, or around the edges of a perfect pie crust.

Dean didn’t understand why it was so hot, but he was already nearly to the edge, leaking onto Cas’s hand and staring helplessly into Cas’s bright royal blue eyes.  He felt a little dizzy and was grateful he was laying down.  Cas’s warm soft skin rode up and down Dean’s shaft, squeezing his cock and sending electrical pulses shooting down Dean’s legs to the very tips of his toes.  Without thought, Dean’s hips started to rock up into the thrusts of Cas’s hand and Cas brought his other palm up to press down on Dean’s hip and still him.  But he took pity on Dean and tightened his grip slightly and sped up his strokes a little.

His hot breath was in Dean’s ear as he whispered now about how much he loved Dean’s cock—how solid and hard he got, how the head of his cock swelled and reddened with need, how good his cum tasted.  “I want to feel you inside me, Dean.  Someday soon, after Dr. Mills gives you the clear, I’m going to cover your chest in whip marks that I put there this time.” 

Dean shuddered and moaned loudly, closing his eyes and imagining Cas with a whip in hand, the loud crack and the slice of perfect pain and incessant burning after.  “I’m going to give you all the pain you want and then I’m going to bend down on all fours in front of you and beg you to fuck me.” 

Cas’s hand was jacking him hard and fast now and Dean was panting.  He moaned out a rough “Fuck, Cas.”  He could picture it—his cool, calm, dangerous alpha on hands and knees in front of him, pulling his round ass cheeks apart for Dean, his voice breaking, begging Dean to fuck him.    

“Then you’re going to shove your throbbing dick inside my tight, virgin, alpha ass.”  Cas’s hand slammed up and down and up and Dean was gone with a hard jerk, come flying out of him, his orgasm making entire body convulse as Cas worked him through it and murmured, “Oh yes, Dean…god, you’re so hot, so good coming for me…”

After he had come down a bit, Dean rolled to his side, and let his hand drift over Cas’s body.  He’d had something on his mind and he knew…well, he thought he knew…it would go well.  But he couldn’t seem to keep all of his trepidation at bay.

He cleared his throat.  “Cas, can we…um…well, I…”  He drifted off.   _ What the fuck, Dean!  This is Cas.  Cool the fuck out and just ask.  _

Cas had tilted his head over and down to look at Dean.  He looked comfortable and relaxed, satisfied.  He looked happy.  He smiled softly at Dean.  “Dean, please don’t worry.  Whatever it is we’ll work it out.  Just go ahead.”

Dean nodded.  Closed his eyes a moment then opened them again to meet Castiel’s.   _ Jesus, those eyes are going to kill me. _  “Well, I’m pretty sure now…I can tell….  My heat is definitely coming.  I think it’ll be four or five days from now.”

Cas pulled his arm that was wrapped underneath Dean a little in a sort of comforting squeeze and he let that hand drift into Dean’s hair to lay at the back of Dean’s head.  Dean pushed back slightly into it and reveled in the feeling of Cas’s strong hand pressing back, controlling his movement, holding him still.  Safe.

“I would like it if you would go through it with me.”  Dean felt a bizarre little thrill of pride when he managed to spit the whole sentence out smoothly.

Cas gave a sharp intake of breath.  His eyes seemed to have widened and he felt a little stiff.  He seemed surprised by the request, though Dean didn’t know why when he had obviously been hinting at this the week before.  “Dean, are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, I mean…unless you don’t—”

“Oh no, Dean!  I mean, yes!  I mean, I would be honored to share your heat.” 

Dean felt a bit of warm air rush out of his mouth as he let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.  Cas’s hand in his hair had tightened, gripping onto Dean’s short hair roughly.  It felt so good.  He couldn’t wait for Cas to fuck him again—having that withheld from him had been shockingly difficult for the omega.  He inhaled and was flooded by Cas’s scent which had bloomed suddenly into a mix of pride, affection and arousal.  Fuck, he smelled so good.  Dean looked down and wasn’t surprised to see Cas’s dick, huge and hard, a string of precum running from his slit to a spot just below his below his belly button.  He shifted down the bed a bit and bent down and wrapped his mouth around Cas’s cock.


	63. Sixty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam visit Benny in jail; Sam and Bobby leave; Dean's heat starts

The next three days passed quickly and rather quietly.  When Dean and Bobby went to the store together one day, Dean suddenly realized it was the first time he had gone anywhere without an alpha watching over him in nearly two months.  He hadn’t even thought about it.  Because he didn’t have to think about it anymore.  He could go anywhere he wanted—he was safe again.  It was yet another little piece of the puzzle adding to a sense of normalcy and happiness he hadn’t felt in ages—maybe had never felt before.

Later that day he and Sam took their last outing together before Sam was going to leave.  He was planning to go back to Bobby’s to visit Ellen and Jo for a while before deciding what his next move was.  He seemed uncertain about whether he wanted to go back to Africa or stay in the states and settle closer to family for a while.  Dean was driving and they both had their windows wide open enjoying the fresh air and the sounds of the road.

When they pulled up at the county jail, Sam asked him if he was sure he wanted to see Benny.  As an answer he swung out of the car and headed for the entrance.  Five minutes later they were waiting in an interview room when a guard brought Benny in.  They watched as the detective, in a blue scrubs sort of getup, settled across the table from them.  He looked tired, but somehow better than he had the last couple times Dean had seen him.  He supposed it was from being sober or the relief of having Dean’s case finally solved and Alastair behind bars.

“Dean,” Benny said.  “You look good.”  He turned his gaze on Sam.  “We haven’t met properly.  Sam.  You really are the alpha version of Dean, aren’t you?”

Sam just nodded.

Benny turned back to Dean and said, “So this is your show, Dean.  What can I do for you?”

“Benny…Christ, I know this is weird talking in here and all, but…we’re friends aren’t we?”

Benny didn’t react much, but Dean still thought he saw something like surprise in the other man.  “I…don’t know.  I didn’t think you’d feel the same way after you knew everything.”

Dean looked between Benny and Sam.  “Can we talk in here?  Is this recorded?”

Sam said, “No, I came as Benny’s counsel, so no listening or recordings are allowed.”

Dean nodded.  “Benny, I’m not mad.  I understand why you let…”

“Ruby,” Benny said quietly.

“…Ruby take me.  I don’t blame you for anything.  You were right the whole time.  You always thought he was going to come after me again even though I didn’t think so until after that time he came to the house.  You understood it all from the start.  And…look…I’ve talked to Cas and Sam both and…it’s not too late.  You still don’t have to do this.  If you want to tell the truth instead we can all do that.  I don’t want either of them to go to prison because of me, but I don’t want you to, either. “

“Dean,” Benny sighed.  “Look.  I am going to prison for what happened to Alastair.  Thank you for what you said, but you’re wrong.  I am partially responsible.  And even if I weren’t, this is still the right call.  I have a drinking problem and I need help.  I can get sober in here.  We need detectives who can handle the tough cases and will keep citizens and victims safer, not put them in more danger.  It’s time for me to get out of that business.  I’ll serve my time and I’ll do something else when I get out—maybe be a P.I.”

“But as far as Castiel and Sam here, they would go to prison for a very long time.  It would ruin their lives.  And they both have too much to live for.  I’m single and not just starting a great career like Sam.  And whatever sentence I get will be far less than they would.”

Dean looked at Sam.

“Detective,” Sam said slowly, “I understand you have only been charged with assault and battery, but at this point it is aggravated, which does allow a maximum sentence of life imprisonment.  You can’t be certain how much your position and the mitigating circumstances will reduce that.  Even a few years of hard prison time can be enough to—”

“Dean,” Benny interrupted, his gaze on the omega rather than Sam, “please don’t.”  He turned to Sam.  “I already have a plea offer from the prosecutor of three years and that’s without any effort.”  He looked at Dean again and rested his hands on the table.  “Dean, you have to let me do this.  I will be fine.  But I won’t be fine if your brother or your…Castiel….  You cannot ask me to live with either of them having to go to prison or go on the run and ruin their lives for a situation that I had a hand in.  Please, Brother.”  His hand twitched and Dean thought maybe the alpha was wanting to reach out to hold his hand.  But the guard had told him he wasn’t allowed to touch Benny.

“What’s going to happen to Ruby?” Dean asked.

“Walker told me the prosecutor is considering whether to charge her with obstruction of justice or accessory to assault and battery,” Benny responded.

“What can I do to stop that?”

“Stop what?  You mean you don’t want them to prosecute her?”  Benny sounded confused.

“Yes.  She’s a victim in this, too.”

Benny looked at Dean for a minute then shrugged.  “Neither you nor the police have the final say in that, but as the victim you might sway the prosecutor.  I’m sure Sam can get you in to speak with the prosecutor’s office and express your opinion.”

“You met her, right?”

“Yes, I interviewed her a couple times.”

“Well?  What do you think?”

Benny leaned back in his chair.  “I think you’re right.  I think she was scared.  A lot of people wouldn’t think that excused her behavior, though.  She could have helped me out a lot more from the beginning.  She could have requested police protection.  But yes, I think when it came down to it she was probably threatened and afraid.”

“Well, I just don’t think it was her fault.  I think she was a victim, too.  And I think if he hadn’t gotten me that day with her help, it just would have been another day some other way.”

Benny shrugged.  “Some people wouldn’t care.  Would say then she should have said no and made him do it that other day and other way.”

“Yeah, well, you’re already asking me to be okay with you going to prison because of me,” Dean said.  He felt a little better about it after talking to Benny and seeing him actually looking alright.  But there was still a slight sickly roiling feeling in his stomach at the thought.  “If I can help keep it from being two people, I have to try.”

Benny nodded and the three were quiet for a few moments.  Then Benny turned to Sam and said with a bit of a smirk, “So how do you like Castiel?”

Sam gave a startled bark of laughter at the abrupt change in subject.  “Well, frankly, I’m a little worried about how well my brother has him wrapped around his little finger.  But I certainly don’t think I have to worry about Dean’s safety.”

Benny chuckled lightly.  “No.  Definitely not.  You would never have guessed it from the shy, distraught alpha I met at the hospital two months ago.”  He shook his head a bit.  “I imagine he may be a bigger challenge for Dean here in the long haul than you might think.”

“Hey,” Dean interjected, “I’m sitting right here ya know.”  But his eyes were twinkling.

*               *               *

As Sam and Bobby got ready to leave the next morning, Dean could already feel the effects of his heat starting up.  His skin felt hot all over and he was thanking god already that he had healed enough that he didn’t have to worry about bandages anywhere on his body anymore, as sweat was already springing up everywhere whenever he moved even a few steps away from the HVAC vent.  His emotions were a jumbled mix of excitement and fear.  He knew his fear was misplaced but it was uncontrollable—it sent his stomach into knots and tensed all his muscles every time his heat began, even when he was locked safely alone in his own bedroom with a giant nest full of blankets, sex toys, granola bars and water bottles.

Sam seemed to have already scented the change in Dean and appeared anxious to go, as if afraid that any minute Dean would strip down and plead with Cas to knot him right there in front of his little brother.  They were just waiting on Bobby to pack up the last of his tools and Cas to get off the phone with his brother so he could say goodbye.

“So you’ll call me when you’ve figured out what you’re doing, right?  Not gonna go back to Africa without seeing me again?” Dean asked.  He thought his voice sounded a little desperate but hoped Sam would just attribute it to his heat.

“Yeah, definitely.  Leaving the country just doesn’t feel right anymore.  I can’t really say why, but I think I want to find somewhere to settle down for a while.”

“Man, that’d be so great.  Especially if there were little Sammy Winchesters running around for their Uncle Dean to spoil!”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself there, Dean,” Sam said, but he was smiling.  And he was right.  That was probably Dean’s heat talking, too.

Bobby walked in then.  “K, Sam, we’re good.  You ready?”

“Yep, good to go.”

Cas walked in from his office then and said softly, “Sam?”

Sam turned back with a questioning look.

“My brother Gabriel asked for your phone number.  Do you want me to pass it on to him?”

Sam looked embarrassed.  “Um, sure.”

Cas tilted his head.  “I don’t mind telling him no, if you prefer.”

“No,” Sam said quickly, then more casually, “No, it’s fine.  I told him he could call.”

“Oh reaaaalllyyyy?” Dean said, his tone heavy with suggestion, as he sagged against the wall over the air conditioning vent.

“Shut up, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Yer both idjits,” Bobby said.  “Come on, Sam.”

And then just a few minutes later they were gone and Dean rushed back in the house to hunker down in front of the air vent.

Cas chuckled.  “Come on, Dean, I’ve already got the portable air conditioner set up in the bedroom and started gathering what you’ll need for your heat.  Let’s get you settled up there and then I want to run to the store for some things before we’re laid up for several days, okay?”

Dean sighed.  “Yeah.  Thanks, Cas.”

*               *               *

Physically Dean was feeling better for the moment.  Cas had taken the edge off of the beginning of his heat with a lusciously slow, slurping blowjob, and with the extra air conditioner and fan Cas had set up, his skin wasn’t prickling with heat anymore.  But his emotions were still riding high, and he knew they would be for the next several days.  It was one of the worst parts about his heats.  He was uncomfortable being on such a high note at all times.  It made him feel melodramatic and childish, out of control in a more substantial way even then the physical needs caused.

But this time, for the first time, the thoughts and feelings jumbling around in his head and sending their tendrils through his body were largely positive ones.  There were fears and insecurities, but there was so much more hope and joy and…well, love.  It hadn’t even really begun yet and he already knew he wanted every one of his heats to feel like this.  He still felt he didn’t deserve Cas, but he had started to become mostly comfortable with the idea that that was Cas’s problem, not his.  That he shouldn’t deny himself the opportunity to be happy for as long as he could just because Cas might come to his senses someday.  If his heart was broken, it was broken.  And hell, it was about time.  He’d never truly been invested enough before to have his heart broken and they said everyone should go through that at least once.  And Castiel was definitely the guy that was worth the risk.

He rolled to his side, thanking whatever power might be listening that his wounds had all pretty much healed before his heat began.  Shit, this would have been such torture—maybe too much torture even for Dean—if his ass and thighs especially were still covered in cuts that wept and tore every time they fucked.  All they had to watch out for now was the cast on his arm, and they were pretty much experts at that since it had been on basically through their entire relationship.  He slid his hand over Cas’s chest and watched Cas open his blue eyes to gaze at Dean.  He’d been relaxing, but was clearly wide awake, and Dean could almost feel the love and devotion the moment Cas’s eyes fell on him.   _Fuck, but being with Cas was amazing._  

“Cas, can I…I’ve been wanting to say a couple things.”  It was usually so difficult for him to open up about emotions, but right now he just wanted to pour his entire heart out.

“Of course, Dean.”  Cas smiled and his hand came up to rest on top of Dean’s, squeezing gently.  It was warm and soft and perfect.

“I…when Alastair had me in his basement this time…” Dean felt Cas tense a bit under his hand, but he pressed on.  “…It was so different.  He tried to hurt me again just like he did before.  I mean, I guess he did hurt me physically and all, but…  What I mean is…  He was saying all the same things as the first time.  He was telling me how disgusting and vile I—”

“Dean—”

“No, no, Cas, listen.  He was saying these things and the first time I felt sick and disgusting and I wanted to just die.  I thought I was worthless and Sam and everybody would be better off without me.  I was almost disappointed when I woke up at the hospital.”  He could smell Cas’s distress growing and he pushed on, wanting desperately to get to his point.  “But this time…it was so different.  He talked and talked and I just didn’t feel any of what he said.  He put those words in my back and said you would see what I really am.”

“Oh Dean, you—”

“No, but see, I knew,” Dean rushed on over the top of Cas’s attempt to interrupt and console him.  He didn’t need to be consoled.  He was good.   _So good._  Because of Cas.  “All I could think was that you wouldn’t believe any of those things.  He told me that hurting me would break you, and I just remembered you telling me that neither of us was broken.  I just saw your face and…”  This time his voice cracked, but he pushed on, “…scented you there, all pine and peppermint, so warm and sweet.”  He sighed.  “And when Alastair spoke instead of him I heard your voice telling me I was precious.”  His voice had dropped down to a whisper—he was caught up in his emotions, yes, but it was still hard to say that out loud.

He felt Cas shift and slide his arm underneath Dean’s neck and slide his hand into Dean’s hair, gripping the back of his head gently.  Dean leaned back into it and Cas held more firmly.  It felt perfect.  His skin was getting warmer and he could feel a trace of arousal starting to tingle in his groin.

“He had this big metal rod.  He was hitting me with it.  And then he talked about you and so I was picturing you and I…I thought about you caning me or whipping me.  Like you said you would someday.”  He was feeling it all over again now.  The thought of Cas taking him away from that place somehow.  Making him stronger.  Braver.  “And how you would tell me I was doing good.”  He smiled at the combined memory and fantasy.

“Cas, I…”  This part was harder.  “It’s you.  You saved me.  How you’ve been ever since I first woke up at the hospital…every minute of every day…so certain and sure and always confident about everything I wasn’t secure about…”  He swallowed and took a couple deep breaths.  Cas smelled entirely good again—the distress was gone, now that he understood.  It was all Cas again—just carnivals and Christmastime and _home_ .  “I think you maybe feel…ashamed or something about what you did to Alastair.  And I know it might not be right, but when you told me, I wasn’t scared or horrified or angry.  It made me feel…loved.”   _Fuck it._  “And fucking turned on, too.  I’m sorry if that bothers you, but it’s the truth, Cas.  I had to restrain myself to just be cool and give you what you needed instead of fucking begging you to pound me into the mattress.”

Dean couldn’t tell if he should have held that little tidbit back.  Cas was just blinking and starting at him.  He looked a bit wild, but maybe more surprised than anything else.  His scent still smelled just like Cas.  Maybe a little aroused, but given the context of Dean’s heat, that didn’t necessarily mean anything about what he was saying.

“I survived because of you.  Because of the way you love me.  And I…I want that.”   _Fuck, I’m shit at this._  “I mean…I don’t want this to end.  I don’t want to just ask you to help me with this one heat.  I want you to fuck the shit out of me through all of them.  And through all of your ruts.  And the rest of the time.”   _I want you to mate me._  He whispered it in his head.  He begged Cas silently to understand.  He somehow pressed his body in tighter against Cas’s side and still pushed his head back into Cas’s hand.  Cas got it.  He gripped Dean’s head and guided it to his neck, allowing Dean to breathe in his scent.  He smelled like freshly ground coffee and coconut.  And swelling up underneath it was vanilla, sweet and warm and wonderful.

“Dean, I…are you…”  Cas’s voice cracked and Dean wondered if he felt Cas shaking a little.  “Dean, I…would you…are you considering letting me mate you?”

Dean closed his eyes as a wave of heat arousal suddenly rushed through him.  He breathed through his mouth, letting it work through him, soaking in the feeling of the blood rushing to his cock and it swelling and throbbing where it was pressed tight between him and Cas’s hip.  Then he opened his eyes and tilted his head to look up at the… _his_ alpha.

“Please, Cas,” he whispered.  Feeling shy and needy, but determined to admit what he wanted most desperately in the world.  “I want you to be my alpha.”

Cas growled low in his throat and rolled them suddenly, pressing Dean’s back against the bed and hovering over him.  His scent swelled all around them.  Vanilla and sandalwood and a crackling fireplace.  “God, Dean, there is nothing I want more.  Say it again.  Please.”  His voice was all gravel and hunger and alpha need.  Dean felt slick run from his hole and he suddenly felt horribly empty.  He couldn’t help the rock of his hips beginning as he tried to roll up against Cas.

He took a deep breath.  He could do this.  He could give them both what they needed.  “Castiel Novak, I want you to mate me.”

Cas growled again, so loud it sounded almost like a roar in the confines of the bedroom, then he smashed his mouth down onto Dean’s, his tongue working immediately into Dean’s mouth, taking what it wanted.  The heat and taste of Cas’s mouth was intoxicating and Dean felt overwhelmed by the desire to be owned and used by him.  He moaned and wrapped his good arm around Cas’s waist pulling him down hard against himself and grinding up against the alpha.  Cas’s cock was huge and hard already and Dean rolled his hips, sliding his own smaller dick up and down against it.  Cas moaned into Dean’s mouth and pulled his head even harder against the alpha’s own, his grip in Dean’s hair tightening and starting to tug and pull, sending more little electrical heat shocks from the slight pain through Dean’s body.  Dean panted roughly and rocked desperately up against Cas, feeling too empty as a rush of slick streamed from his ass.

Cas pulled back a moment then and looked at Dean as he squirmed below the alpha, his cock thrusting up against Cas for friction and his chest almost heaving with heavy pants as his body shook with need.  “I love you, Dean,” Cas said and Dean heard a weak whimper come from his own mouth as his cock leaked onto his stomach.

“Caaassss…” was all he could manage.

But it was enough.  Cas smiled above him and growled quietly, “Present for me, Omega.”

Dean scrambled to obey, writhing out from under the alpha.  Another rush of slick ran from him when he heard Cas add, “Chest to the bed, watch out for your arm.”   _Fuck._  He was so empty.  He needed Cas.  He needed his cock and his knot.  He needed to be full and to be tied and to be owned by this fucking perfect alpha for as long as he could.  He pressed his chest to the bed and buried his face in the pillow, breathing in Cas, and spread his legs and lifted his ass into the air, hoping it was as enticing as he felt.  He rocked his hips, as if the very air could somehow provide some friction for his needy, weeping cock.  And then he felt Cas’s hands sliding across his hips and running over his ass, caressing and enjoying the shape of him, soothing a bit, but not enough.  He could feel Cas kneel between his legs and then two fingers were pressing inside his dripping wet hole.  There was no resistance for them and Dean needed more, so much more, but they still felt wonderful and he pulled in a sharp breath as Cas pressed them all the way in until he was palming Dean’s crack.

“Dean…god, you’re so wet for me…such a perfect omega…”

The fingers disappeared and Dean felt Cas scoot closer until his skin brushed lightly against Dean’s ass.  Cas had his cock in hand and rubbed the head up and down Dean’s slit, perhaps lubricating it or perhaps teasing Dean.  He didn’t know.  But he loved it.  And hated it.  He rocked forward and back with his need and squeaked out a rough, “Cas, please…”

Cas chuckled.  “Mmm…Dean…you look so beautiful like this…I’ve never seen you so hungry.  I can already feel my knot swelling.  No one has ever made me pop so soon—you are so perfect for me, Dean.”

Dean was lost in his own need and the sound of Cas’s voice.  This Cas was the same and different.  Talking still but less rambling, more secure and confident somehow.  Dean couldn’t believe how much he loved it.  He whined and rocked again and felt the reward of Cas guiding the head of his cock down to press against Dean’s hole.  Cas’s other hand grasped his hip tightly and stilled his rocking as he pressed forward and easily slid into Dean, continuing to press in steadily and scooting his knees forward a bit until he was in full hilt, stuffing Dean and holding Dean’s hips now with both hands, tight and secure back up against his own pelvis.  He held Dean tightly that way and Dean could feel the alpha’s cock twitch inside him once, twice, then three times.  He whimpered and felt his own cock throb in response.   _Fuck fuck fuck._  It was so good.  He was so full.  Almost full enough.  But he needed more.  He needed Cas to fuck him and he needed Cas’s knot swollen and huge inside him.

“Caaasss,” he whined desperately, panting into the pillow and trying to lean his weight on his good arm.

Cas squeezed Dean’s hips even tighter, his fingers digging in, and then he pulled back, sliding out until only the head of his cock was inside Dean.  “Oh yes, Dean, you’re so good…you feel so good…such a tight, perfect little hole…”  He shoved back in more quickly this time and pulled out immediately, setting a steady rhythm fucking into Dean and groaning praise.  Dean’s skin was tingling everywhere and he panted roughly, wanting to rock back into the alpha but prevented from it by Cas’s rough, tight grip on his hips.  Cas slowly started to increase his pace, fucking Dean on and on, endlessly, a steady upbeat until finally he was rocking into Dean fast and panting roughly as he groaned his praise of Dean.  “Dean…fuck yes…unh…you’re so…fucking perfect…such a strong, tough…unh…sweet, delicious man…”

“Caaas,” Dean whimpered, turning his head to the side, needing to be heard, “want to see you…”

Cas stopped immediately.  He pulled out and surprisingly gently guided Dean to his back.  Dean stared at him, he seemed bigger than usual, he was shining with sweat even in the ultracool room, and his hair was sticking in all directions.  His eyes were wide and dark, Dean couldn’t tell where the pupils shifted into blue, though there was still blue at the edges.  His cock as glistening and stuck out, huge and stiff in front of him.  There was a slight swelling starting at the base that Dean had never seen before and he moaned lowly at the sight.   _Fuck._  It was going to be huge inside him and so perfect.

Cas lifted Dean’s hips and legs and slotted between them up tight against Dean and slid easily back into Dean.  He dropped forward onto his arms on either side of Dean’s shoulders and slid a hand into Dean’s hair at the back of his head.  Dean stared into Cas’s eyes and felt immediately dizzy, but the hand in his hair tugged gently and a safe and warm feeling slid down his spine.  “I love you,” he whispered, not sure where that came from, but excited by the little apparent inadvertent thrust of Cas’s hips that came in response.

He tilted his head a bit to reach up and lick across Cas’s lips lightly.  “Love feeling you inside me, Cas,” he murmured, licking and nibbling at the alpha’s lips and thrilled when Cas jerked his hips forward again needily.  Then a huge wave of heat rushed up his body from his toes into his groin and all the way up to his brain and he couldn’t think anymore.  His arms came up to grab Cas’s biceps and his head tilted back as his hips thrust up helplessly.  He felt so hungry, so full and somehow empty at the same time.  It was so hot.  He needed…something.  He rocked and writhed a bit, and a shudder ran through his body pulling a soft whimper out of him after it.

“Shhh…it’s okay, Dean…I’m here…I know what you need,” Cas rumbled, and then he was pulling out and sliding back in again and fucking Dean smoothly, only this time Dean could feel the swelling of his knot every time Cas was momentarily pressed tight up against him.  Cas let his head rest in the crook of Dean’s neck, inhaling in between hard pants as he shoved into Dean faster and more roughly, the slide and feel of the big, stiff shaft forcing its way in again and again, making Dean shake and whimper nonstop now.  Cas’s warm breath blew onto his neck and Cas’s hips slammed forward again and again, shoving into Dean and that knot was growing and pressing against his rim with each thrust and Dean wanted it so badly.  He felt like a ball of need with one single focus on that big knot pressing up against his rim.

He wrapped his legs tight around Cas’s back and pressed his feet into the alpha’s ass, urging him to shove in harder and harder, farther and farther, wanting it all.

“Dean…fuck…you’re so hot…Dean…oh my tight…perfect…precious…Dean…fuuuuck…”  He slammed and pounded in and out of Dean and he was panting desperately, loud and sounding so needy and urgent himself now.  Dean tilted his head back and to the side further, wanting something more…

“Dean…oh fuck…Dean…I’m going…oh god…you’re so perfect…”  Dean felt the pressure at his rim hard now as Cas slammed forward and he couldn’t believe it wasn’t popping in, Cas was fucking him so hard, he was being smashed into the mattress.

“Dean…want you…mate me…please…” Cas moaned out as his hand pushed at Dean’s head, pressing it forward and helping hold it up as Cas tilted his own head to the side and brought Dean’s face toward the crease of his own neck and shoulder.

Dean felt his pulse skip a beat and then pound desperately hard.  His alpha was asking him to bite first.   _Fuck, yes._  Oh god, he wanted it, wanted to feel Cas’s knot inside him, wanted the alpha pulsing his come, filling Dean up and the alpha’s blood in his mouth at the same time.  He knew he was really shaking now and he whimpered and tugged with his feet at Cas’s ass, silently begging to be knotted.

Cas shoved back in again once, and then with the next hard thrust his knot slammed hard past Dean’s tight rim, popping in and Cas was pressed up impossibly tight against him and the huge knot was filling him up and pressing against his prostate.  An electrical jolt shot up Dean’s spine and he automatically clamped his teeth down onto Cas’s neck, breaking the skin and tasting the iron sharp blood spill into his mouth.  Cas’s knot pressing on his prostate gave Dean no chance for relief and he shook and shuddered as an orgasm ripped through his body.  His legs convulsed, squeezing tightly around Cas’s waist, holding him close as Dean writhed beneath him and came uncontrollable for what seemed like an eternity.  When he felt a little more himself, he realized he was suckling at Cas’s neck and licking at the wound he’d made there and Cas was shaking above him, his knot and cock still impossibly huge and hard inside him.

“Cas, please, Cas…” he begged and pulled his head back, pressing as hard as he could against Cas’s hand in his hair as he licked his lips and rocked his hips simultaneously.  Cas let out a deep growl and pulled Dean’s head back hard, sending a thrill of pain and pleasure through the omega and making him clench down unexpectedly on Cas’s cock.  Cas roared then and pressed his head fast and hard against Dean’s neck, biting down roughly as he shook and came inside Dean, pulsing spurts of come that Dean could feel deep inside his ass even as Cas’s knot shook and pulsed against his prostate.  Dean’s cock tried to rise again, but even without that, Dean could feel another orgasm shake through his body and a drizzle of come leak out of his cock as Cas sucked hard at Dean’s neck where he’d split the skin.  The pain was exquisite and Dean felt fuller and more satisfied than he had ever felt in his life.  He held Cas to him tightly, reveling in the sensations of the alpha’s shaking orgasm, in how Cas’s hips still rocked slightly forward and back even as they were tied together and how he seemed to intermittently moan Dean’s name and lick at Dean’s neck.

After a minute, Cas slumped down a bit, letting some of his weight rest on Dean.  They rested that way for a minute until Dean shifted a bit and Cas’s knot pressed against his prostate again unexpectedly.  He moaned loudly and his legs squeezed involuntarily around Cas’s hips.  The alpha moved and rocked very slightly back and forth a bit, fucking Dean even as they were tied together, his face still pressed tight against Dean’s neck, suckling at the mating mark he’d made.  Shocks of pleasure jolted through Dean as he felt another wave of Cas’s come pulsing into him as that huge knot pressed up against his prostate.  And to think, his heat was just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the story is definitely pretty much over at this point. Planning next and last chapter to be the end of Dean's heat. I have two other sexy chapter ideas I had wanted to fit in the story but didn't really get to, that I'm considering adding, but they aren't fully written yet and aren't necessary and don't really further the actual plot in any way, so not sure if I should do them or just let it lay here where the story really ends and wraps up kind of neatly. So if anyone wants those smutty chapters, let me know and I will probably get around to finishing them and adding them.


	64. Sixty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. The end. This chapter is entirely smut (with a touch of fluff).
> 
> I expect that I will do a couple additional timestamps to this story in the future, though the ones I currently have in mind are also just to add a couple additional porn-related thoughts I didn't get to use.

Cas had been riding an emotional roller coaster for the last 36 hours.  He felt a bit like laughing at himself for how cocky he had felt about his ability to share Dean’s heat without being overwhelmed.  What a ridiculous thought.  He should have known.  Considering how ridiculously out-of-his-depth he felt most of the time around Dean—how just being near the omega on a regular day seemed to steal his breath away one moment and send him into hormonal frenzy the next.  But after helping such a variety of omegas through their heats before, he had somehow felt this was the one experience with Dean he had basically been trained to handle.  But the reality of heat with someone he loved, someone he was bonded with, or perhaps just because it was Dean at all—it turned out there was very little similarity to those other heat experiences at all.

Yes, he was on call to make sure Dean ate and hydrated properly, to help clean him up, change the sheets, and bathe.  And that wasn’t so different.  He felt more emotionally invested of course, in watching Dean drink when he requested it and so much more proud and satisfied when Dean ate a piece of fruit from his fingers.  But those feelings had at least been there with the other omegas.  He had thought the sex would essentially be the same thing—what he knew and was used to, just a little more intense.  So naïve.

This experience, this heat, with Dean—it was as if every heat fantasy Castiel had ever had through his entire life had been brought together, placed into the hands of an expert artist of some kind and then enhanced, rebuilt, emphasized, exaggerated and then assembled into a sort of emotion bomb that was set to explode with the power of the sun every time Dean’s _need-want-hunger_ scent washed over him.  He looked down at Dean dozing next to him and he felt it.  It had been there ever since the first day Dean woke up at the hospital.  A gentle but insistent pulling from some spot deep inside his chest tugging toward a similar spot in Dean’s chest.  A cool, sweet sensation of bliss washed down his body as he watched Dean’s chest rise and fall, the strong jaw line and relaxed face resting on his thigh.  He let his hand drift down and pet through Dean’s short, spiky hair and leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes for a moment.

He drifted a bit, floating in a jumble of thoughts and brief visions, all revolving around Dean.  He hadn’t intended to sleep, but he must have fallen into a doze, because the next thing he knew he was awakened by a shock of arousal and want.  A tantalizing warm, wet feeling was surrounding his cock and his pulse was high, his heart pounding already in excitement.  As he opened his eyes, he realized he had tilted onto his side a bit, bringing his dick right in front of Dean’s face as he still lay with his head partially cushioned on Cas’s thigh.  Dean was suckling Cas’s now half-hard cock gently, his eyes closed and his face still showing the smooth, relaxed look of sleep.   _Fuck!_  Dean was sucking on him in his sleep.  Cas’s cock throbbed and swelled further, as Dean continued sucking on the head.  Cas stared at Dean’s face, his lips wrapped around his shaft, his cheek hollowed in slightly as he sucked, his forehead smooth and tension-free.  It was so sweet and so hot at the same time.  He wanted more and he longed to roll his hips toward Dean’s face, pressing his cock further into that sweet, perfect mouth.  But he wanted Dean to sleep as long as he could more.  So he lay as still as he could and forced himself not to rock and thrust even as his cock grew to its fullest.  He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock where the knot was starting to swell, holding it down and forcing his orgasm away.  As he thought about not coming, of course, he pictured coming now, trying to pull out before his cum choked Dean in his sleep and then spurting all over Dean’s face, decorating his cheeks and eyelids and chin and lips with his cum.   _Oh god, Dean would look so amazing covered in my cum._  The white stripes streaking over his freckled skin, a contrast to his own tan skin and lightly stubbled jaw.  Cas squeezed hard on his knowt, willing himself to keep control, holding as still as he could.

But it was too late.  He could smell his own scent, already heavy with alpha hunger and want, flowing out of him and Dean’s body was already responding.  Dean’s hips were starting to rock forward and back, his own cock hard and leaking, rubbing a bit against Cas’s leg.  Dean was breathing more heavily through his noise and his suckling had become more purposeful, though he still hadn’t opened his eyes.  Then Cas breathed in a wave of Dean’s scent that was heavy and full with want and hunger and he finally allowed himself to start to rock gently forward and back, sliding his throbbing cock just a little bit in and out of Dean’s amazing mouth.

His perfect, wonderful Dean of course, slurped over his dick, his mouth waking up and his tongue running along the underside of the shaft as it slid in and out and then wrapping around the head and into the slit.  Cas moaned loudly and Dean’s eyes started to slowly pull themselves open.  Cas pressed a hand to the back of Dean’s head and held it there, hoping it would ground Dean and Dean let out a small whimpering sort of sound as he pushed back slightly into the hand and then rocked his head gently forward to meet Cas’s thrust, taking in more of Cas’s length.  As his eyes opened fully, Dean’s will seemed to follow his instincts, as he slurped and sucked more purposefully, pulling Cas’s hard cock further into his mouth and pressing his head forward even as his hips started to rock and thrust against Cas’s leg with more urgency.

Cas marveled at how beautiful Dean looked laying there nestled up against his legs with his head in Cas’s crotch, following his desire and taking what he wanted.  Dean’s green eyes looked up at him hungrily and Cas felt a wave of heat wash through his groin.  He need to get more of his skin in and on Dean.  He needed to taste Dean and feel his body pressed against his own.  He groaned loudly, “Dean,” and reached down to Dean’s waist with his hands, pulling Dean’ up and into his lap, wrapping his arms around Dean’s back and pressing his face into Dean’s neck.  Dean grunted slightly and settled easily to straddle Cas’s thighs and press his own cock down and forward, rubbing against Cas’s.  Cas buried his nose in Dean’s neck, inhaling deeply and holding Dean tightly as he rocked his own hips in a gentle rhythm to meet Dean’s.  He inhaled cinnamon, jasmine, sandalwood, vanilla and well-worn books, clinging to Dean to keep steady as he almost swooned under the power of that scent, even though his back was pressed up to the headboard.

He felt Dean’s face buried in his neck as well—Dean’s warm breath on his skin and then Dean’s tongue licking the mating mark he had made less than two days before.  A shock of pleasure and affection ran down his spine and he clutched Dean tightly to him, reveling in the incredibleness of Dean—the strength and power of his body and his simultaneous vulnerability as an omega in heat and in love with Cas.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice came, “need you…”

Cas felt a clenching in his stomach at the same time that his cock jerked in excitement.  He smiled into Dean’s shoulder and let his hands drop down to Dean’s ass, lifting Dean up and slipping a hand between his legs to guide his cock to Dean’s waiting hole.  When the head of his cock hit Dean’s rim Cas wanted to come already.  Heat and slick were both leaking out of Dean’s hole and he could feel them sucking him in impatiently.  He slowly let Dean’s weight drop down into his lap, inhaling deeply of Dean’s scent as he impaled his lover on his swollen cock.

“Yesssssss,” Dean whispered into his neck.  “Caaasss…”

When Dean was seated fully, his round ass settled on Cas’s thighs, squeezing his balls, and Cas moaned into Dean’s neck.  Dean felt so incredible—the heat was intense and when Cas felt a dribble of slick run down onto his balls a thrill of satisfaction and pride rushed through him.   _He_ had made Dean this wet.  His omega was excited and hungry for _him_ !  For _his_ knot!  He squeezed Dean’s ass and lifted him up then allowed him to drop down, getting a steady rhythm going, his face still buried in Dean’s neck inhaling Dean’s arousal and reveling in it.  Dean’s arms were wrapped around Cas’s shoulders and he was licking and nibbling lightly at Cas’s mating mark in between breathy whispers of “yes” and “Cas” and “hmm”.  Cas started to thrust his hips up in time with dropping Dean’s body down onto himself.  He was completely overwhelmed and distracted by the feeling of Dean’s channel around his cock—the way Dean hugged him and tried to hold on as he was pulled off and then pushed back and also gave way for him when he pressed back in.  His walls were so soft and hot and wet and the friction and slide was perfection.  He had no idea how long he went on, just lifting Dean up and dropping him back down, breathing him in with his eyes closed and his entire focus on that tight, dripping wet hold around him.

But he finally noticed that Dean’s sounds had changed.  He was now whimpering loudly—a beautiful sound that somehow made Cas feel needed and important and strangely special.  In between he would pant and occasional let out a low moan, but they were only staccato accents to the near constant whimpering that made Cas’s knot start to swell with authority.  Christ, he felt like a walking cliché, but he loved how needy Dean sounded right now!

“Cas, please,” Dean actually _whined_ in his ear, “Cas, need more…”

Cas couldn’t hold back a growl.   _Oh fuck, YES!_

Cas took stock of their position and carefully but quickly lifted Dean up and off of himself.  He jumped off to the side of the bed and grabbed Dean’s legs rather roughly, tugging his ass up to the edge of the bed.  Dean was immediately on board and took position on his knees, shoulders pressed into the bed so as not to rest on his cast, and spreading his legs wide as Cas pressed between them and started to slide the head of his cock up and down Dean’s crack.  His rim and crack were shiny and wet with his slick and the scent rose up immediately to Cas’s nose, even more powerfully than before.  It smelled fucking delicious.  Cas swiped a finger through the mess and brought it up to his mouth, sucking it clean and closing his eyes a moment to take it in.

“Cas,” Dean whimpered, “Alpha…”

 _Oh fuck.  Oh fuck fuck fuck._  Cas leaned his knees against the bed for a moment and his hands clenched down involuntarily on Dean’s hips.   _Oh god._  Dean had never called him alpha before.   _Oh fuck._  Dean.  His omega.  His tough as nails, powerful, manly omega was whining for his alpha and it was the hottest fucking thing Cas ever could have imagined.  When the momentary dizzy spell passed he opened his eyes and looked down at Dean, squirming on the bed in front of him.  His face was buried in the bed and he was rubbing his cheek on the sheets, his eyes closed, his breath loud and heavy as his mouth was open and he whine in between pants.  Dean’s round, perfect ass was raised high in the air, his hole shining wet, just a tiny gap surrounding by that sensitive puckered flesh.  Cas wanted to lick it and bury himself inside at the same time.

“Alllphaaa…”

Cas gripped Dean’s ass and slammed in to the hilt, eliciting a surprised grunt and gasp from Dean.  He stilled there and rolled his pelvis in circles, grinding into Dean and enjoying the sensation of Dean’s passage rubbing around him and how Dean whimpered for him.

“Shhh, Dean, I’ve got you.  I know what you need, sweetheart.  My mate.  You’re so good, so perfect, my precious omega.”

Dean gave a little whine and pushed back into Cas’s body as if still seeking more.  Cas pulled back slowly and then slammed back in as hard as he could, holding Dean’s hips in a rough grip.  Dean let out a breath at the impact and Cas pulled back and slammed in again, repeating the hard fucking, but at a slow pace, refusing to pick it up until he absolutely had to.  He wanted to see Dean like this for as long as he could and he knew it would be good to wear his omega out as much as possible so he might be able to rest well after this wave.  He slammed in hard and rocked his hips, pulled out and slammed in hard again, then ground in.  He pulled out and slammed in, ground against Dean, pulled out, slammed in and ground against Dean, over and over, feeling almost delirious himself with pleasure and still-unsatisfied greater need.

Dean was now whining consistently, whimpering out Cas’s name here and there, still rubbing his face almost mindlessly against the sheets and begging for…something.  He was gorgeous and perfect.

“That’s good, Dean.  You’re doing so good for me.  So perfect, sweetheart.”  He slammed in, ground his hips.  “Yes, you’re so hot, so incredibly intensely perfectly hot, Dean.”  He pulled out, slammed in and rolled his hips, pulling back hard on Dean’s hips with his hands.  “Unnnhhhh…Dean…you’re so tight.  You’re like a glove made for my cock.  I’ve never felt anything like this before, Dean.”  He pulled out, slammed in HARD, ground against Dean.  “Oh fuck, Dean, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?  So sloppy and needy for your Alpha.”  He leaned forward.  His knot was swelling now, there was no more holding it back.  He needed to fuck and breed his sweet, gorgeous Dean.  His hands slid up Dean’s back until they were resting on the top of his shoulders.  He grabbed hold of Dean’s shoulders and used them for leverage to hold Dean still, pressing Dean hard into the mattress.  Then he started fucking Dean hard and fast, his hips rocking back and forth as fast as he could while still keeping it hard and strong.  He pounded into his omega, pushing down on his upper body and feeling a great swell of pride as he felt Dean struggling to use his legs and work to hold his ass and hips up for Cas.  His omega—his mate—was so perfect—the most perfect being that had been created in this world.

Dean panted and whined and Cas rammed into him while his knot grew bigger and bigger.  “Caaaasss…” he heard Dean whimper between the slaps of his balls and thighs smacking against Dean’s, “need…knot…”

He smirked.   _Oh yes._  He knew what his little omega needed.  “Yes, Dean…don’t worry…my knot is coming for you…only for you…” He rammed in and out of Dean and finally felt his knot pop in past Dean’s rim.  He forced it back out and then in and out a few times…loving the feeling of that pressure and how Dean’s body finally gave way for him…and then was so hot and close, clenching all around his knot.  “Is this what you want, Dean?  You want my knot, sweetheart?”  He pulled out roughly again and then pushed back hard against Dean’s rim, stalling and teasing his omega with the pressure of his huge knot right there, pushing and wanting to get in.

“Unnnhhh….Cass…..please….” Dean whined and Cas had never heard anything like it.  He shoved Dean’s body forward on the bed so he was laying flat and then he dropped down on top of Dean and guided his cock back to Dean’s hole.  He pushed in until he was fully seated again except for his knot and then he relaxed on top of Dean, his chest on Dean’s back, legs twisted in with Dean’s legs.  He brought his arms up and pressed one onto Dean’s good wrist, holding his arm still and with his other hand he pulled Dean’s head to the side so he could access his mating mark.  He held Dean’s head there roughly and licked across the mating mark.  He felt Dean shudder beneath him and clench tight around his cock.  He rocked his hips back and forth several times until he felt sure of his leverage than he started fucking Dean one more time while he sucked and bit lightly at the mating mark.  Dean felt even tighter in this position and the friction and heat were driving Cas quickly to the brink.  He could Dean was getting off, too, his own cock pressed between his body and the bed, rubbing incredibly no doubt and likely sticky and wet now from Dean’s precum.

Cas fucked in and out and licked at Dean’s mark, as he felt his orgasm get closer and closer.  His mind was full of how Dean had given him the gift of mating—how he was going to be allowed to feel Dean’s warm, hard body beneath his, to slide into his wet, tight, inferno channel, and hear his sweet, needy whimpers and moans for years to come.  He hadn’t felt much differently than Dean before—heats were something to be endured, to be dealt with—until now.  He wanted Dean to have a heat every month or more often if this was what it was like.  Dean was perfection and his ass was wetter and hotter and his sounds were so beautiful and it was amazing to see him give in to the need and hunger and allow himself to whine and to beg and to just take and be used and trust Castiel with all of it.

He pressed in hard and out and in hard again and out and then finally he rammed his hips forward as hard as he could and his knot shoved past Dean’s rim and Dean let out a loud whimpery sort of groan and as Cas’s hips continued to rock he felt his knot swell that last little bit, getting too huge to pull out and locking him into Dean.  Cas felt strong and powerful and _fierce_ and he bit down hard on Dean’s mating mark as he started to pulse and come inside Dean.  Dean jerked and shuddered and shook beneath him and his ass clenched in around Cas’s cock and knot and Cas felt his jaws involuntarily bite down even harder.  Dean’s iron-y blood ran in his mouth and his ass was hot and wet and squeezing around his dick and he was shaking his own orgasm out beneath Cas, and Cas was lost.  He couldn’t stop coming.  His cock let out pulse after pulse of come and he could feel how wet and full Dean was now.  Dean shook for almost a minute and then his body relaxed beneath Cas.

Castiel finally extracted his teeth from Dean’s skin and licked gently at the renewed wound there.  He thought he heard a soft “mmm” sound from Dean, but he wasn’t sure.  He released Dean’s arm and pet gently at Dean’s hair, murmuring into his ear between licks on his mating mark, “Mmm…my Dean…my precious mate…you’re so good…so perfect for me…love you so much…”  He felt a soft squeeze of Dean’s ass and his hips jerked forward as he felt another spasm of orgasm and spurted more shots of come deep inside of Dean.  When that called down, he gathered Dean gently in his arms and rolled them to one side and guided them to a better position, where they could rest lengthwise on the bed, heads on the pillows.  He tugged a light blanket up over them, tucking it around Dean’s front just when he felt another squeeze from Dean, setting him off again, so he held tightly to Dean as he came some more.  This time Dean moaned and he felt Dean’s arm drift down, his hand resting on his own stomach.

“Cass….so full…feels so good…” Dean whispered sleepily.”

Cas kissed the back of Dean’s head and brought his own hand to rest on top of Dean’s.  “I love you, Dean,” he whispered, like a prayer, unable to keep from rocking his hips gently as if punctuating the sentiment.

“Love you, Alpha,” Dean murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I asked/heard from one or two of you guys about what you might like next, but I want to open that up to anyone else who wants to share their interests in case they might align with mine. What should I do next? My favorite couples currently are: Dean/Castiel, Dean/Sam, Finch/Reed (person of interest), John/Sherlock, Daryl/Rick (walking dead), Steve/Bucky (Marvel), Derek/Stiles (teen wolf), Will Graham/Hannibal (this is not a complete list at all so don't restrict yourselves). I'm more intimidated about trying to write some of these than others (like Sherlock having to be british and a genius, for example). My favorite sort of kinks lately seem to be dom/sub, size, praise, sometimes incest, definitely hurt/comfort, and sometimes dubcon or even noncon. I know many of those may go too far, for some, so really just kind of interested in what others might like to read as it just might suddenly hit me as the perfect thing for right now. I'm not sure I'm the kind of writer who can definitely write to a specific prompt, but I'd certainly be interested in plot or story ideas people would love to see also. Just whatever you feel like sharing, I guess. :)
> 
> So thanks one last time to absolutely everyone who read, subscribed, bookmarked, left kudos and/or commented. You are all so fun and the support has totally made all the difference. Honestly not at all sure I would have finished such a long story except that it was so fun that other people were enjoying it, too!!! Love you guys! Chicktar
> 
> I am on tumblr I think as @Chicktar, but I don't post much. But I am always looking for people with common interests to follow there, so let me know your tumblr if you have one and wouldn't mind being followed. 
> 
> Also, I am curious about maybe submitting this story to tumblrs or other spots where people keep recommendations or libraries of destiel or supernatural fics, so if anyone has any suggestions I'd love to hear those.


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